


The Aspect

by StrayLupum



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: AU, AU Jason Todd loves singing, AU Roman Sionis got his face, AU Roman Sionis was already a Black Lantern and got the ring, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Batman is not saint, Body Part Kinks, Bodyguard, Bruce Wayne is a bad person, Business, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dark, Death, Family, Feelings, Fights, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Kinks, Lazarus Pit, Light BDSM, M/M, Mercenaries, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Plot, Plot Twists, Resurrected Jason Todd, Singing, Slow Burn, Superheroes, Supervillains, Violence, alternative universe, alternative universes, it's more original work than actual fic, strange family, you can read this as an original work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:42:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24790264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrayLupum/pseuds/StrayLupum
Summary: Death. What is it? Five letters and eternal philosophical issues.Death.For Jason Todd it’s just an aspect of life. One of many.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Clark Kent, Roman Sionis/Jason Todd, past!Jason Todd/Slade Wilson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 46





	1. “Deal”

**Author's Note:**

> One day I got a strange idea of an AU where Jason could have a really great role. A person who never asked for all those challenges and still did well. A person who had to fight with haunting past, with new abilities, with death. A person who dreamed about being truly needed.
> 
> Well... seems I love hurt/comfort too much.  
> Hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Never-ending gratitute to Mary_Madison_Jude for beta-reading! They're helping me a lot with text (and language) improving <3

_ “Success doesn’t demand a price. Every step forward pays a dividend.” _

David Joseph Schwartz

“Black Mask, huh?”

“Exactly.”

“And what is the reason I can’t go with you to that East dump?”

Again. Slade sighed and waited for a pause, barely looking at him. Jason was really bringing this shit up again. The only thing needed to be asked is why one kid could not shut up, take money and do a well-paid job without comments. Nobody liked chatty mercenaries. Well… Most don’t.

And with no doubt nobody liked sobbing mercenaries.

“Luthor’s paying for  _ my _ job, Sionis - for  _ yours _ . Clear?”

“Why me? Just…” A flash of confusion passed through his eyes, Slade knew this glance look. “You did well and… No reason Sionis could just give you away. You’re too damn good. I can’t replace you. Not in a thousand lives!”

With no choice Slade put his rifle aside and came closer to Jason sitting on the windowsill. The boy helped with checking all the essential ammo he had to take with him. He polished the sword, packed up grenades of four types, even recomposed his belt and some little stuff in the bag.

“You know you’re good enough to replace me.” Slade tilted his chin up with two fingers. “Let’s start with the fact that you got both eyes, kid.”

“Not a kid…”

“And Joker made a great recommendation to Sionis after you helped him escape Bat’s claws for the fifth time.” Free hand made its way to the inner thigh and squeezed. Jason wanted to close his eyes so bad, but he fought himself. Slade was going to be absent for quite a long period. Half a year! They never were apart for this long! So he looked straight in Slade’s face and tried not to be as sentimental as he was the day before. And the day before that.

He just didn’t want to be alone for six months. It was too hard for him to imagine.

Without Wilson’s support in guarding Sionis, the freaking lover of BDSM masks, it wasn’t sure if it would be his dream job but – to Black Mask honor – the man was paying incredibly them nicely in advance. And if Jason would not be allowed to see Joker…

“Hey, hey…” Fingers left ghosts of the touch on his chin only to appear on the cheek. Caresses so soothing and warm, so desperately willing them to never stop. And he almost closed his eyes. “I know, you’ll be okay, lil’ bird. You have my blessing, what other protection and support do you need?”

Jason Todd, the only and the best apprentice of Deathstroke, chuckled and put both hands down to undo Slade’s fly. He was already half-hard.

“Speaking of this blessing?”

***

Gotham, never glimmering even when the sunlight seemed to remove all the shadows and never too boring when the night came to its reign.

It’s Gotham, yes.

The city of corners and whispers, of ambitions and hard players. Your bid was everything or you gained nothing. Living in Gotham meant being a creature from another world. A world where you had to be powerful. It didn’t matter if your power came from violence, money, or a sharp mind, if you’re cunning then you were welcome.

Roman Sionis didn’t think of himself as a cunning person. No need to think, when you already were, right? His circle of interest and shadow-politics influence grew, and now he was in need of conquering new territory. Business was not only about buying and selling shares or investing in promising enterprises. Business was also about negotiations, supporting the image and having people you could trust.

You could never rely on just yourself hundred percent of the time and people who thought this never succeeded in business.

That’s why he hired ten of the best guards, all of them friends and Deathstroke’s military colleagues. Almost all of them. One of them – young, fresh blood, a pretty face and Slade’s apprentice. A boy who survived secret circumstances that Wilson didn’t want to share.

Red Hood in the flesh.

Kid made a reputation of a tough, cool guy with a strong left hook and deathly right uppercut. Gun lover, sniper master and just a nice person to meet. Loud in bed, if Roman could believe Slade’s words.

_ “I told him you and I had a nice time together,” Wilson said, seconds before his plane leaving for the Far East, his comm already catching static. “Should warn ya: be gentle. He won’t jump into your bed just ‘cause I gave green lights. He likes, y’know, being loved properly.” _

_ “So generous of you to share your men in every way.” _

_ “If my boy gets a bad attitude, nothing will save your soul, Sionis.” _

_ “Now it seems attractive. Good luck, Wilson. I’ll take care of him.” _

__

“…and Todd. In position, waiting further orders.” Despite the fact the declaring man’s face was hidden with the tactical mask, Roman knew Victor. A nice guy to talk, knowing tactics and just the most trusted face of all.

Sionis had an opportunity to be guarded by Vic when he had a period of bad relationship with Penguin. Thanks to Vic, Roman had silent nights full of healthy sleep.

In a word, he was glad to see Vic.

And intrigued seeing one red helmet.

But you shouldn’t put all eggs in one basket, so they say?

“Please, do help yourself.” Roman made a wide gesture with a gloved hand. “You have tonight and tomorrow till the evening to rest and get used to your new place. You will live here in this building, I own it fully. You are not allowed to enter the penthouse unless you’re ordered or called to. Every other floor is yours to explore. If you need something –  _ anything at all _ – call Circe or any staff you see here. More ammo, food, drinks, drugs, tech, whatever you need. Any suggestions according to the security system are welcome. I do care about your comfort since I really do appreciate professionals doing their job well. I don’t want to bother you when it’s not necessary, so you won't need to accompany me every single minute. But I need you to always be ready to work, any questions?”

Silence was the answer.

“It's a pleasure of mine to meet you, gentlemen, have a good night. Vic, Hood, you stay.”

The door shut without any sound when the eighth mercenary left the parlor. Victor took off his mask and asked permission to smoke. Sionis didn’t know why, but many of them were smoking. He couldn’t call it an irritating habit as far as none of them left any ghost of the tobacco smell. After putting a small ashtray to the opposite edge of the table, Roman offered to have a seat.

“…no meta,” Vic started without any invitation after firing the cigarette. “Didn’t hear about ‘em involved in any serious business. But we do keep fingers on the pulse…” With the last words he turned to Hood.

“Got in touch with one famous clown.” His voice sounded muffled a bit.

And still… So young. How old was Red? Hard to speak for sure, but voice timbre more than pleasant.

“Be a doll, take your helmet off when speaking.” Roman could almost hear as Hood realized the point of the request. At least, for just now it was a simple request. And Sionis hoped Wilson didn’t send him a punk knowing nothing about etiquette. “So you tell me you know the clown. A famous one. Any advantages for the job you are to do? Ah-ah, Vic. I want to listen to the younger generation. Fresh mind, fresh ideas.”

And what a pretty face he was hiding under the red shitty mask! Sharp cheekbones, oh god, you could get cut while looking at them. The pink blush for no reason on the tip of the nose, so adorable. And those eyes… Tenacious, solid, and naughty. So many colors, not simply fair blue. Roman knew those shades. And was looking forward to watching them in a much more intimate state in the near future.

As For now, there was something more hidden in this kid. Something that causes a light tickle feeling under his glove, inside the Ring. Something whispered, yet too silent to be no more than a murmur, something was warning Sionis about the boy.

Could it be that Wilson found and raised a real treasure?

Well…

“…my acquaintances make a good deal for me when it’s ‘bout gettin' rid of troubles quickly. ‘Bout having information faster than any can. And I’m best in fist fighting against heavy assault guys.”

That’s interesting. Even taking into account the size of the armor under the biker jacket, Todd was not  _ that  _ big. He seemed to be in form, matter of fact. But heavy assault? Wasn’t he speaking about Bane-like monsters modern shadow-businessmen preferred to have in security? If he was, Todd turned out to be a diamond amidst a bunch of shit named Gothamites. Why is he still living here? Why the mercenary work? Why Deathstroke-old-ass-Wilson? If he was that good, and Roman doubted the boy would tell lies, it was his, Roman’s fortune, to have him.

Kid’s voice was kind of a coup de grâce to Sionis’ mind.

So clear and so damn pretty.

Would he scream in similar pure tones as he uses to speak?

Oh, god. It ended up as a truly beneficial deal. Thank you, Wilson, thank you again.

“Well, nice to see you can advertise yourself.” Roman stood up and both mercenaries did the same. And only when Todd’s right cheek got under the lamp light, he saw a ‘J’ mark, looking like a scar. Already being showing off? The mark seemed too old to be made in a year, at least two or three  _ minimum _ . But Sionis fought his curiosity. “I wish you a nice time here. Welcome again, Victor. And…”

Blue eyes.

So hard to sink in those.

It was times like these that Roman liked his mask on him constantly.

“…glad to meet you, Jason Todd, the Red Hood.”

“ _ Pleasure is all mine _ , Roman Sionis, the Black Mask”

The blush on Jason’s cheeks was adorable, indeed.

***

Of course, there was a gym. Several floors, Jason didn’t catch from the first time if the amount of training areas was three or four. But he liked the one that was the nearest to his bedroom, and Vic shared his thoughts. On the 17 th floor of the building they got an athletic arena divided into five circles, small but a convenient fighting ring and some pieces of exercise equipment, but both Victor and Jason didn’t see any sense in using them.

After running and hard sparring it was a relief to have a shower in the luxury place. Despite the fact Slade was not a person to save money instead of making his living comfortable, Sionis got his level of comfort much higher than any person Jason knew.

Bathroom with both bathtub and shower stall in another corner? Check.

Several original paintings dating to the 18 th century in the bedroom  _ and  _ bathroom? Check.

Too big to be a double bed and the best view from the huge windows? Check.

Gotham still could have any kind of  _ good _ view. Here, from the height of bird’s flight. Here, where you can reach the sky with your bare hand and…

“Damn! Stupid assholes…”

Sionis rushed into the common day room on the 17 th floor.

“…oh, that’s a big mistake, you, big freaking piece of…” He opened the drawer of dark red wood and put a bottle of bourbon and crystal clear glass. Poured a little, zipped the fly on his mask and drank at once.

And only then did he see Jason sitting on the sofa with a tablet. He was reading a book, but who cared about books when watching furious Sionis? He was lucky to have extra hours of rest before long-termed job.

“You… Todd, right?” Roman sounded as if he was willing himself not to explode. Jason could not explain it even to himself, somehow he knew it’s better not to make any mistakes right now.

The only thing he did was nod.

“Hold this while daddy’s working. Be careful, I don’t like wrinkled clothes.”

Before anything became at least a bit understandable, Jason caught a beige color jacket. The fabric was smooth and pleasing, it smelled heavy of cologne.

And Sionis…

“What a smart boy. Sure, you are much smarter than one gentleman who’s not paying attention to his duties…” Roman rolled up sleeves and there was the moment when Jason Todd forgot about everything.

He lost himself, dissolved in watching how playful Sionis held his daggers. He barely touched the steel, it was dancing under gloved fingers. Roman had bronze skin, of course he had but his muscles, they could be rarely seen on any other businessman…

…it reminded him of Bruce.

Bitter taste of old defeated fear, incisive memory came to mind, taking him away from reality. It was the same, as here, the same luxury and comfortable environment. A person leading his company and some shadow life.

It was…

_ Red, crimson red and golden. It was the color of his blood on the painting frame. The wound wasn’t too serious, it didn’t even hurt, because the only thing he could feel – drumroll of his own pulse. _

_ He was not supposed to see what he saw and hear what he heard. _

_ Alfred succeeded to win some time for him. _

_ But he could not run forever. _

__

“You didn’t really have to wait for me and hold this piece of fabric, boy.”

Sionis’ voice changed. It sounded now… like a satisfied predator’s purr. He was covered with blood, mostly on the upper part of the body. But his legs also got some stains. He already finished ‘working’?

How long did Jason stay here, holding the jacket...?

“You alright? White as a wall.” Sionis took his jacket to wipe off blood from the leather mask and his arms. Beautifully deathly arms knowing how to make the steel dance. “Tell Circe I need to get changed. Tell her to get clothes upstairs she’ll understand.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Todd.”

The heavy cologne smashed into him when he was already standing in the doorway.

“My name, it’s Roman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my first work written in English, not translated from my mother tongue.  
> Since it's not my first language, you may find some mistakes and maybe misspels in the text. <3  
> Every question you may have when reading the story will be answered by the plot. I'm working on that!
> 
> Also I will be glad to see you in my twitter (here you may find information connected with ongoing chapters: https://twitter.com/nymph_sidora), and I'd love to chat about anything you find interesting :3


	2. "Family""

_ The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense. _

Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

“I bet they fail.”

“They can do that!”

“Hundred bucks says they can’t.”

Stupid chatting in his comm didn’t make him any good. He barely could save his breathing rhythm, and when he tried to talk back, it even became worse. His lungs were already burning after running for so long on the roof. Peripheral sight told him Vic was almost at the edge, exhausted. But they couldn’t let several things happen and that’s why both of them continued trying to outrun the truck.

First, both Jason and Victor didn’t want Chase to win an easy hundred.

Second, Roman wanted  _ his _ money to be in  _ his _ pocket. And if anything was called to belong to Sionis, it better be brought to him.

Third, one guy in the truck managed to shoot Yuri, and it was a fatal mistake.

Nobody shot Yuri and stayed alive.

No-fucking-body.

“Hood,” Victor grunted, slightly changing his direction. “At… nine o’clock. Docks.”

“Got it. Push me when ready.”

The very last word took all essential oxygen, but even under the helmet he somehow felt enough energy to move. Faster, faster, and here was the roof edge, the parapet and Vic, pushing him with the rest of power. It was more than sufficient to break the windshield and kill the driver on landing.

“And Hood makes a touchdown!” Yuri’s victorious shout deafened his right ear. “Easy hundred, motherfuckers! Red, remind that big guy about the shot and I’ll share the prize!”

Shut up, he wanted to say when pulling Jericho’s trigger, but was too busy while restoring his breath and stopping the truck. Five idiots, five corpses. And one leather suitcase, spotted with blood and brains blown out. Inside – Roman’s money. Frankly speaking, it was money of a so-called crime family head. The head was going to sign a contract with Black Mask and share the territory in exchange of… Jason didn’t know, but it definitely was something important.

“Hood, alright?” Victor landed in a safer way using the fire escape. The ten-floor house projected outward confidence despite the noise they made. Gotham, it never changes.

And nobody even tried to give a fuck or worried about anything happening at night on the streets.

“Nah, carpal sprain, by tomorrow it’s gonna be okay. Sionis has been waiting for too long. Gotta be on the place by now, he’s a maniac about the timing.”

“He’s busy lecturing about etiquette.”

Nice. They didn’t fuck up and finally got an opportunity to appease the boss.

The point was exactly in misbehavior of that mob family head. He gave lots of promises, guarantees and nothing was going to be true. He tried to shoot Roman on the day of the meeting. Not exactly by himself, and Sionis was more furious about the fact the Italian dude didn’t even bother to come than the attempt of assassination. Roman was a mess, a rare rampage Jason ever seen in his life. Still elegant and graceful, Black Mask killed ten people with his bare hands using one butter knife he accidently found when the combat began.

And that was the first day Jason Todd had to work as a cleaner. Not only for a car but for his own clothes too.

After Roman killed the people, it seemed Vic and Jason switched to a state of cold fury. He found the guy and was teaching him ‘good’ lessons for about eighteen hours by now. Todd didn’t know for sure until he came to the place, but he somehow guessed that Italian dude was still alive.

Working two months for the man, he learned that Roman was a person that really cared about his property. And this included people, even employees hired for a temporary job, like Jason and the squad.

“Hurts?”

It was an old Ford Mustang 1965 kindly borrowed in Back Mask driver’s parking garage where they took their seats. The rest of the team went on cleaning the area, they’ll go to celebrate then (or just sleep, depending on Yuri’s feelings about the shot), while Vic and Todd deal with the boss and give him a kind of report.

Victor started the car, looking at Jason who already managed to fix the dislocated joint with silent crunch and now was bandaging his left hand. With a crumpled cigarette tightly pressured between lips.

“Compared to the landing from the tenth floor, it’s nothing. Huff…”

“C’mon, you’re not as vulnerable as usuals are.”

“Still don’t have super-soldier-serum running through my veins. So please, leave me babysitting my aching hand and watch the road.”

“Ah. Poor little thing…”

It was something in his words, or maybe, the fact itself that it wasn’t what Victor  _ really _ said. At moments like this everything started from the white noise. It was cutting his mind, separating from the outer world. Next stage of  _ sinking _ was the green light. It invaded his detached perception, took control under his conscious. He was nothing but a clot of attention, the only thing he could do was wait for Her speech. And then…

She came.

As always.

**POOR LITTLE THING…**

His seared smelling caught the distinct aromas of old waters. Waters of green color, with the secret power of giving a birth to the dead.

Waters of Lazarus Pit.

**SO ARDENT IN ITS DESIRE TO SERVE AND NEVER ADMITTING HIS OWN HOPES…**

Her voice didn’t sound anything like a human and Jason knew that: She could have no commonality with mortals or any other kind of known creature. She was something above the reality they lived in.

She was  _ everywhere _ and  _ nowhere _ at once.

Her voice was soft and motherly and yet he was still frighten by Her.

Her words were never a word itself, but a feeling, a sensation, brinks of emotions that She tried to show to him. And he was afraid, frightened by the fact that some higher entity could feel sorry for him and his life.

**LET ME TAKE AWAY YOUR PAIN, MY CHILD. FOR NOBODY WILL EVER WANT TO DO THIS FOR YOU.**

She always called him a child.

Especially when She visited his dreams.

“…king, HOOD! HOO-OOD!”

A short slap on the left cheek was his sign of returning to reality.

He was sitting in the vehicle with his helmet off.

Vic stopped the car just in front of the one-floor building, where Sionis was in the basement and was supposed to do his ‘lessons’. It was hard to see Victor’s eyes under the black helmet, but he definitely sounded concerned.

“Again,” he explained. “The mist and green lights then you sobbing like a dying dog.”

Jason felt his cheeks wet. Again.

He never could fight this feeling. It was always overwhelming and too strong.

“Not a word to Sionis”, his voice hoarse as if he had a sore throat. “Everything’s fine.”

Under the hood nobody would see a drop of expression on his face.

When they both entered the basement, Todd noted the sprained hand didn’t hurt anymore.

“Well, well, well, let’s see…” Roman opened the case and began re-counting bundles of notes, “Fifty… Seventy… And here we have five rows… Whoa, you were ready to pay for that piece of shit this much! It’s even more than I was asking. What a truly generous person you are, Zottola. I almost feel offended.”

With a gesture Sionis ordered two people in similar masks to bring clinking bags. Todd could recognize this clink easily; the bags were full of coins.

“You see, Zottola, I’m neither a mingy locust nor a greedy hog. I am only here to return what’s mine. The change” he took the bags and untied them “will be counted and delivered to the right people. Unfortunately, today none of the banks had big notes hope you don’t mind.”

It was a funnel of a giant diameter at the bottom, huge enough to let coins drop freely and fill in the guts of Zottola. His eyes widened as more and more coins were forced to enter his throat and then continue their way to his stomach. This Italian was not a fat one, but sure he had some extra weight. Sweating a lot and shifting in a hopeless attempt to avoid the coins, he looked like a pig just before turning into a sliced bacon. A pathetic one, Jason might say. Why did people always get themselves in situations without knowing their own strength? Without comparing their areas of influence with a person they want to withstand? Wasn’t it too silly for those who claimed to own the city? It’s not about how shitty Gotham was, but about the human’s lack of required IQ level, an ineptitude in leading business.

Maybe that was the reason why so-called ‘old blood’ was still on top of shadow Gotham. And partly – sharing the top with others who were not involved in dirty stuff.

The less idiots let their stupidity prevail, the more calm nights people, like Jason Todd, could have.

And those guys like Sionis…

“You and you, when this ‘wallet’ is full, send him to Penguin. I’d like him to know Roman Sionis is an honest man,” Black Mask chose people to deliver Zottola full of coins, and then turned to Jason. “Hood, with me. I have something to chat about… Oh, I almost forgot about this…”

He leaned to take a piece of skin from his sole.

Not just a skin.

Somebody’s face, covered with blood, dust and sticky lymph.

“Use it like a postcard. Suppose, Zottola’s right hand doesn’t need a face…already, right? Hood, upstairs.”

Outside the basement and the building, the night was still covering the city. Embracing Gotham’s lights and noise, it felt like existing in cosmic chaos, an eternal bunch of life which was never going to stop, to catch silence for just a second.

One event after another – beneath the ground, on the surface, above the city – life was nothing but a crazy stream. Never knew when sharp underwater rocks would disembowel you.

“You really are an interesting person, Red Hood,” Roman said without any interest in his voice, only tired and in the process of wiping some spots off his gloves. “Had a morning conversation today with our mutual friend. We’re having a meeting this Saturday and he insisted on your presence.”

“Is it bad, boss? If it is, then I could…”

The red eyes of Sionis pierced him, and Jason felt no will to end his phrase.

“I don’t remember letting you speak.” He was silent for a while, examining his gloves scrupulously. “The strange thing is not about your attendance it’s about words our friend used to describe you and your…position. He also asked me to convey a message for you. It was something…he called himself your mother and wanted to see you on the stage…”

Oh, Jesus fuck.

He forgot to warn Joker about his new job.

Fuck.

“…I don’t know what it exactly means, but you are not supposed to be on duty. Do whatever he asks, I just need my meeting to be successful. And the clown made it clear: he won’t talk to me without  _ you _ .”

“Yes, Sir.”

Jason Todd sincerely hoped that Joker would not make him regret not contacting him for such a long time.

***

On Saturday was one of the strangest meetings Roman ever had with Joker. It was neither pleasant nor frustrating to have any deal with the clown. He was just…a type of person Sionis didn’t want to have in his list of enemies. Still, Joker wasn’t a suitable person to be friends with either. He was comfortable to be a neutral side, someone to share advice and someone whose support would always come in handy.

But those conditions Joker imposed… Roman was not surprised just because Todd already warned him about the close acquaintance he has with him. But the words ‘Mommy’s missing her little boy’? Since when did Joker ever protect such undistinguished people like Hood? The kid was good on mercenary jobs, quick enough, silent and obeying. Nothing extremely good, at least not as good as his one-eyed mentor.

Pretty-faced, that’s true, and Roman still didn’t have a chance to come closer to this handsome body.

And just with the short phrase Joker turned on sick interest in Red Hood personality. Was he one for surprises? He definitely was, but what kind? Several times Roman noticed his Ring responded to Jason’s emotional state it was too extraordinary to ignore. But business and territory issues, and some sudden shit took all his time, and Roman forced himself not to lose his priorities.

Today was a day to learn more about Jason Todd.

And he wished soon he would use other opportunities.

“We have arrived, boss.”

Jason was first to go out the car and open the door for Sionis. The driver listened carefully about the time of departure and wished a good night.

They were already expected.

First to meet was Joker’s girl, Harley Quinn. Hustle and bustle, but pretty smart and intelligent when needed. If not their common madness because of the acid, Roman would have invited them for meetings to his possession.

“J.J.! You finally came! C’mon, boys, get him for a long absence!” Two giant spotted hyenas, wearing crazy green and pink ‘hairstyles’ bumped Jason, sounding like an awful parody for a human laugh. Todd smiled and let them lick his hands and even his face. Disgusting. “Roman! It’s been ages! Howdy, howdy! Oh, Mr. J. is waiting for you! Go inside, he’s at his usual place. And here we have our super-secret secrets with J.J., no good comes of eavesdropping!”

Harley winked him and led Jason with hyenas to another entrance.

Probably, they got some issues about the ‘stage’ mentioned by Joker. Anyway, no reason to be rude. But the attitude Quinn gave to Hood…was too warm and too friendly.

Joker’s usual place was on the second floor, in the VIP lounge area, surrounded by an enormous amount of clown-clothed bodyguards. Recent days were turbulent for everyone.

“Black Mask, glad to see you,” Joker was fast to stand up and give a semi-formal, half-true hug to Sionis. “And you brought my boy, thank you in advance. Help yourself, have a rest. Would like an appetizer? Just kidding, I remember you’re fastidious about my drinks and food.”

“Not fastidious, and not about drinks,” Roman corrected the green haired man, taking a seat on a cozy chair. “Bourbon, if you do have one. And I’m glad to see you free.”

Licked out his lips and gave a nervous sign to the waitress. She disappeared only to bring them a bottle and two glasses.

“Freedom… Just as a term to underline boundaries, but there’s no bounds that can hold me. Know what they sing? ‘Ain’t no jail can hold my body down’. Or it’s not ‘jail’… By the way, singing!” Joker jumped again, licking his lips and almost pouring out his bourbon. He went to the edge of their balcony and pointed to the lower floor, where the stage was lightened with soft gold. “I bet you wonder why you were asked to bring J.J. here, don’t you? Now see. Or listen... Whatever! Ha-ha!”

It was him on the stage. Todd in a simple white shirt and black suit vest, sitting on a high chair with a mic on a stand just in front of his mouth. His face was covered with some kind of makeup, because the ‘J’ scar is not visible on the cheek.

Music was calm and pensive.

And his voice was simply incredible. Pure, confident, smooth.

‘ _ In city shoes of clueless blues pays the views and no-man’s news… _ ‘

The Ring heated up.

“He’s a talented boy, isn’t he?”

He was.

‘ _ …the flags are false and they contradict, they point and click which wounds to lick… _ ’

Jason raised his eyes and stuck. He looked directly at Sionis, speaking about importance with the long glance, trying to summon, to catch yet unknown… something.

Oh, Jason Todd. Still waters run deep.

The whole night was strange and full of nervous movements. Was it because of Joker’s infectious madness? Nobody could make the Ring become warm. There existed no power to change its temperature, but…

“…well, it’s all ‘bout territory,” Joker yawned, picking his teeth with a knife. Roman hardly listened to him, looking at the neighbor table, where Quinn and Todd were laughing and sharing some stories. Both hyenas on Jason’s knees. “You’ve got my support, Mask. If my conditions are acceptable, then, I’d like to mention my kid. You know, a boy with dark hair and white stripe, a ‘J’ on the cheek.”

Jason was now wiping his face with a towel. The mentioned mark became more evident.

“He wasn’t stable for several years before you hired him,” the clown's voice was too serious. It was bad.

“…and the reason you call yourself a mother?”

“Oh, a simple question! Jason died once and I was the only to give him a birth! None will be stable after literal death, so… And to mention, he took my maiden name!..”

Jason… What?

***

The city blinked too fast to focus on the roof examination. Driver was speeding, hurrying to get them back to home.

He found himself as a lemon put through juicer several times. Not because of the stage or chatting with Harley, but because of endless Roman’s glances. Jason didn’t mind having that kind of play, but he anticipated that Sionis did get information about his past.

There was no doubt that Joker didn’t tell just everything.

But the thing was Jason Todd didn’t want to share his past with anyone new.

“He said that you died.”

…Joker told him about his death. And how much more?

“I did.”

He didn’t even try to turn his head and look at those eyes, Sionis got awfully alluring and terrifying eyes of furious red color. Burning red eyes.

“And you took his previous name because of being grateful?”

God.

He wanted to avoid every word, every question. Just melt up, stop existing and never return to the world of living.

“Sir…” Jason cleared his throat and took his cigarettes unconsciously. He noticed he began smoking only when Roman’s hand with a lighter clicked. Now he looked at the Black Mask, inhaling deeply. “Joker gave me my life, returned my will to live…”

Not fully true, Todd. But who cared?

“…and family. There are lots of people with shitty past, and I’m no exception. I suppose you want to know more, Sir. But… Please, not today. Not now. I just… I can’t.”

It wasn’t too bad or too good, but Roman said nothing. He gave a short nod, and left his lighter near Jason’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suppose 'my' Joker is more like Heath Ledger's image. His character really had that seriousness I need in this work.  
> The song Jason sang belongs to Massive Attack, it's called 'False Flags'.
> 
> Hoping you like this chapter! I want to describe the whole story of Jason at once, but forcing myself to create some kind of suspense. Let me know if I succeed :>


	3. "The ugly morning, the bad day and the good night"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have been re-writing this chapter for several times while suffering by a rly bad headache :<  
> This one suddenly turned out to be bigger than the previous two, though not intended.  
> Hope you enjoy it (´｡• ω •｡`)

_ People with ropes around their necks don't always hang. Even a filthy beggar like that has a protecting angel. A golden-haired angel watches over him. _

‘The Good, the Bad and the Ugly’

_ Waters embraced his body as he lied on his back and made no attempt to move or glance away. Looking straight, seeing only a dark dome-shaped cavern ceiling. She was close to him, somewhere aside, silent at the start, and it made him feel lost. Anytime he met Her there was a scenario, an algorithm, when She started speaking and filling his head with an enormous amount of questions. She never allowed him to ask, neither let him remember any of the dreams after waking up. _

_ And he was sure he would not recall this one too. _

_ “Why… are you following me?” He tried his fortune and spoke first. _

_ His voice, not the voice of an adult. _

_ When coming to this particular dream, he always had a body of a fifteen-year-old teen. The age when he died. _

_ She was not fast to answer, but shifted, shuffling with Her dark robes. It was hard to know exactly what new relocation She chose, but it was not necessary at all. Jason Todd had no permission to escape his dreams until She told him everything he needed to know. And forget. _

_ And She never told him about the purposes of those meetings, or whatever they had. _

**_FULL OF WRONG QUESTIONS AND HESITATIONS, AS ALWAYS, MY CHILD._ **

_ Lazarus Pit here a spitting image of the original. Transparent green fog, the pool itself and water which now stopped its existence in the real world. When Jason’s body was put into the pit, he managed somehow to absorb it. _

_ Not a drop left. _

_ He knew nothing about the fate of the cave, but supposed Bruce would search for valuable, useful information. Against Ra's al Ghul, the leader of Assassins, against Jason. Batman had nothing to oppose immortal foes. _

_ There was kryptonite to beat Kryptonians. _

_ Even speedsters are not invincible. _

_ Diana, Wonder Woman, depended too much on her godly gifts. _

_ And what about those, who had their nature changed? Who refused to be taken by death? Bruce had Arkham Asylum, lovely prison. But he got nothing to truly conquer, defeat immortals. Even taking in account his expositional, fake reluctance to kill. Jason, and the whole League of Assassins, and people who had their opportunity to come closer to Wayne, knew the fact of his fear. He was afraid of them. _

_ Time is nothing but an impassive executioner. It had never taken Bruce's side. _

**_A LITTLE POOR CHILD, NO USE TO ANYONE._ **

_ “You always say this, why? What’s the point?” _

_ …the faint murmur of Her clothes became closer and closer until She soared, causing a light breeze. Air of the false Pit felt like nothing. Cold nothing. _

**_OH, ABANDONED SOUL…_ **

_ The flight ended as Her ethereal body, wrapped in long damaged robes, froze in some inches above his floating body, almost parallel to him. Flaps and shreds meandering like shapeless snakes. Her whisper pierced his body, making him shiver as autumn leaf. _

_ And yet, he was nothing but this leaf in the hands of Her. _

_ She was the only one to control his fading. Or rebirthing. And always, it was a choice of life, never matter what Jason wanted, She never let him die or take serious damage for too long. _

_ It was that feeling, again. When no strength existed inside his corpse, nothing to be called willpower. When Her deathly cold fingers touched his face, he was nothing but a dead man, a kid for some reason left suffering from inability to leave this world. Affected having his life, from necessity to always come back, to feel pain and fight for what he never chose. He didn’t even know if he had anything to choose at all. _

_ Always guided, led by someone. Orders to follow, not his wishes. _

_ He recalled why She took away his memories about any conversation. _

_ Recalled the reason why Harley called him unstable. _

**_…IT IS PAINFUL TO BE ALONE IN LIFE AND DEATH. HURT. IT HURTS, WHEN THERE IS NONE WAITING FOR YOU._ **

_ Tears, wetting his cheeks were never hot or warm in dreams. Dead people never cry. Crying was an aspect of the living part of being. Not Jason’s. _

_ “Why? Why?! Why me?! Why don’t let me die and rest in fucking piece?! Please! PLEASE!” _

_ Fingers – bones, matte white. Smooth. In gravely confident movement She leaned forward to reveal what was hidden by the hood. Dark, black skull. And fire of eternity fulfilling eye sockets. She was again encircling, endless caress of care and soft concern. _

**_JASON TODD. A CHILD DOOMED TO BE BETRAYED. YOU SHOULD HAVE BECOME A PROMISE, A MARVEL OF LIFE._ **

_ “W-Why…” _

**_I AM SORRY FOR YOU AND YOUR DESTINY. I AM THE ONLY CREATURE FOUND IN ALL UNIVERSES WHO IS SORRY FOR WHAT IS NOT MEANT TO BE YOUR FATE. FEAR NOT, MY CHILD. I WILL PUT THE POWER INTO YOUR HANDS. I WILL NEVER ABANDON YOU, NEITHER WILL I EVER BETRAY YOU._ **

_ Her skull face looked too familiar. _

_ Similar to the mask of… _

__

__

Sudden crack sound caused deafening and stinging pain in his head. His phone vibrated and howled with morning alarm somewhere above his head.

Place Jason Todd found himself early in the morning was small and quite low. In front of his face bed cross pieces of light color, made of wood or board. And had a crack now. After he hit himself making too violent movements.

“What the…”

Groaning and grunting, feeling as hard pain pulsated in his temples, reverberating over his whole body, Jason crawled out the underbed and turned off the screaming alarm. Time to change the melody. This one was too loud and stressed him out. Nothing pleasant when waking up.

“…the hell happened?!”

His room was a mess.

Every pillow became a victim of carnage, synthetic entrails everywhere: window, floor, covered the bed like a puffy pile of snow. Bedsheets and the mattress are also damaged, but less. Only a few cuts, like if someone tried to search for treasure with a knife. Pillowcases tattered. Todd sure, it was his teeth left those jagged marks.

Those dreams haunting him again.

But he never found himself under his bed before. Never ruined bed linen this bad. What did he see? What else could She show and tell him? Nothing to remember. Just acid green of the Pit and Her endless whisper.

Well… Roman’s servants would take away all this mess. Jason doubted if anyone would ask him about it, but kind of confused held his guts. Not about the situation, but his mental state… He didn't want it to be dubious. Not now, not again. Better it to be always solid.

Loss of mind was the worst thing he had ever got through.

In the bathroom he didn’t spend much time. Stayed a bit near the mirror, examining himself. A bruise in the center of his forehead, nice. Perfect occasion for new jokes. Shades under eyes, shit. Too pale, looking obviously over exhausted, too sick. He had not slept well for about a week now. Had all conditions, lots of opportunities, since Sionis ended the series of negotiations well. The squad got time to relax and get ready for new missions.

Not Jason.

He was not ready at all.

Not ready for an empty kitchen when he wanted to have at least a fast breakfast before routine training. Staff, usually cooking for the squad, was absent. Nobody to ask, no products to cook by himself.

Not ready for Victor’s questions when facing (literally) the floor of the training gym, his aching hand in tight capture. Nose bleeding.

“What’s wrong with you? You are hanging around like a ghost. Are you okay with today’s work?”

“Today...?”

Jason was not ready to forget about the patrol job. It was his shift today with Vic and a few Black Mask’s people. Batman was spotted too close to Sionis’ territory recently, and he failed to arrest Joker too. Tried and failed. And it meant the Bat to be in a bad mood. And when he was in a bad mood, the whole Gotham had to strain its ass.

“You look too bad,” Victor gave him a patch with childish print. Hippos and crocodiles. Perhaps, his daughter’s gift. Jason was not a person of arrogance. “Never seen you this bad. Dreams again? I can turn a blind eye, but Sionis will know sooner or later. And you better be stable, kid. Wilson's goona twist my head off if you’re pushed too far.”

He knew that questionable state was too dangerous for his missions, for mercenary work.

But… He also knew that he still could do well. At least, now.

Not sure about the future.

“I’m fine,” for Vic it was ‘ _ discussion will make everything worse’ _ . “Just gotta find something to snack.”

‘Something to snack’ was one large fries eaten barely by half and a cup of hot chocolate, the temperature of which was too far from what could be called hot. By the time Jason reached the tiny fast-food diner he lost his appetite. Thinking too much about those dreams and dark entities following him relentlessly; thinking of possibilities how to remember and decipher Her messages.

It was a shiny sunny day of March. Too warm for the spring, but in Gotham every spring was unique. And fall, and winter, and summer. Nothing could last forever and yet something was constant.

Hesitations. Misbelief. Doubts. Concerns.

Painful and hurting, Her words never left his mind. Echoes fought their way to his memory through a great wall of oblivion. She said about loneliness. About his pain, his life. And more, there was something more, vital, important, essential for him.

“Shit.” It was the last cigarette. Roman’s lighter, a sudden gift, cooling his hand.

Zippo-like, with an engraved skull, it smelled with burning fluid. Fire stable, strong. The lighter was full and pleasantly heavy.

Skulls, skulls, skulls.

People got no fantasy…

The very first drop from the sky seemed to be fake, unreal. Jason would be glad if it didn’t touch the tip of the cigarette. Simply glad and thankful to Gotham’s weather not to bring down heavy sunny rain on him, watering fries and damaging the smoke. He got nothing complicated to ask, if he could face the Universe. Just no rain, at least not now.

“Fuck. Fuck… FUCK!”

***

Hair still wet a bit, not bothering him, but the irritation percentage tended to increase, not fall. Heavy rain did his job well when cooled down Jason’s hot head; the fucking rain did his job better than people sent by Sionis.

Either they were newbies, or Black Mask fucked up in human resources.

“You think the Big B. will come?”

“When he comes, I’ll flog him with this belt, ha-ha! Who’s been a bad boy?”

Jason caught Vic’s glance and they both sighed.

“Ha-ha! What d’ya think he’s doing in the daytime?”

“Being an asshole in white tights.”

“White? Why?”

“’Cause black for the night, idiot!”

Todd knew Victor rolled up his eyes and forced himself not to explode. They were patrolling for about four hours which seemed to be a fucking eternity. Everything was clear, no signs of Batman on radars, and drones controlled by Yuri sitting in a safehouse caught nothing.

Almost nothing.

“Wanna know why whores never…”

No more, no. NO.

“Can’t stand,” Jason whispered to Victor and used grappling gun on his forearm to find escape on the nearest roof.

Headache never stopped during the day, and only intensified by the night. Fresh air, even filtered a bit with his helmet, didn’t help. He was returning to the green color and his dreams about cold touches of skinless fingers.

Roof he was standing on did not belong to the highest building, but he saw a lot of the West city. Lightings of the Art Academy, beautiful and gothic even by the standards of Gotham. One of the main city hospitals, he used to spend a lot of time there, seen if to take a turn to the left. Recently they finished construction of new facilities.

And if look more to the left…

“Taking a good sight?”

…he watched the red and black uniform of present Robin. Tim, smiling and friendly as always, stepped forward.

“How have you been, Jay? Heard ‘bout Zottola. Nice joke. Your idea?”

Tim, oh, Tim… The only Robin having his brain in the right place.

Not even Jason. He lost it a long time ago.

“Not mine. How are you? Anything happened?” He squeezed Tim’s hand and didn’t want to let go. Robin didn’t mind. At all. “Rumors around… They say, Bat gone crazy last days. True?”

“Yeah…” after shaking hands Tim looked confused and brooding. Biting his lips, he made everything to tell Jason about the nervous state without words. Brilliant. More headache. “He’s really gone mad, Jay. He said… He’s gonna kill you. A commitment, not just dirty talks. He’s searching around the Pit, but Talia doesn’t let him come too close. He will, sooner or later, he will come to Pit. And he will invent some shit able to hurt you.”

As if Jason didn’t expect that.

And didn’t wish to be finally dead.

“…Alfred is afraid for you and me. Be aware of him. Bruce behaves odd, he got so many secrets, god, only stupid Dick doesn’t notice that! He eats any shit Bruce tells him!”

“Dick was always a dick.”

Tim chuckled.

“Yeah…”

“At least we got you, Tim. The smartest Robin ever. Don’t forget to be careful. B. suspicious about you?”

“Nah. He just doesn’t give me much information. But! The rest of the League trusts you and your arguments, a couple of times they tell lies to Bruce. Diana wanted to use her lasso, it would be much faster, but Clark accepts your plan. He only needs any input. He says that Batman should be shown to people, to citizens as he is. He says people deserve to know the truth, not to listen to regular superheroes stuff.”

Clark was right. Not a mantle made Batman a hero, but credibility. People trusted him because he was a mortal, not meta. They trusted him because he had been guarding the city for too long. And supported (in public eyes) by famous Bruce Wayne, Batman was nothing but a golden sample of bravery and reliability.

People created heroes. Then people should get a criminal to judge.

“Clark will get unique… input. Tell him, I’ll get evidence against B.”

Robin’s voice was full of  _ this _ when he asked Jason to watch himself. To be cautious. Not to show himself too often, not to be open. Bruce wanted to kill him.

“Once he already succeeded, Tim. Still can’t call myself dead.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t.

Cold north wind was a reminder of Her caress.

With Robin gone, Jason was not able to get rid of his bad feeling. The storm was coming.

***

“…and my source man claimed…”

“ _ Our _ source man,” Victor coughed to his fist.

“Yes,  _ our _ source claimed that Batman is inclined to capture anyone who doesn’t have steady defense. Joker has already gone hiding, he doesn’t want to have any risk. So did few other ‘players’. None wants to continue any deals while it’s not safe to walk outside,” Jason ended up a report.

Victor and Jason had to report after the shift. Again. Roman’s people were that much incompetent. But there was a conclusion Vic shared that became a sort of relief.

Maybe, Sionis intended to send those idiots for Todd and Victor to use them as cannon fodder. Human shield if situation turned bad.

It had sense.

Sionis hardly wanted to lose the squad. He was sitting at the table, listening to the report carefully and not interrupting. The parlor lit by few lamps, quite dark to catch even any flare, reflection of the light in Roman’s eyes. His face hidden as usual.

“If it is wise to be careful, then we better be…” he finally said. “You may have rest now. Hope you will use information from  _ your _ source smart.”

Was it… a taunt?

Victor was first to go. He didn’t expect Jason to slow down at the doors.

“Go. I need to ask something.”

The door closed without any sound, as usual. He could have been frightened by his idea, an impulse, but was not able to stop. Too tired to be afraid. Exhausted to run, bored to be nowhere but lost in futile attempts to remember. He needed to switch, to become sick with something else, not weakening him so much. He wanted… to feel something – anything – not dark and devouring every bit of his being.

“Sionis… Sir… I wanted to…”

“Is it a personal issue?”

Black Mask didn’t move. He was at the same place, looking straight and speaking with a distant, calm tone. Jason almost noted the beginning of regret. Did he need that...?

“It’s… What?”

“I said: is it a personal issue? If so, you need your helmet off, Jason Todd.”

Putting his helmet on the coffee table, he tried not to let his body betray him. Tried not to flinch when thought after thought popped in his head, when he was trapped in snare of doubts. Was Roman the person who could help him? Was there any possible chance Roman wanted to help?

Almost aware of what was to happen next, he forced himself to sound confident.

And failed.

“I…” voice went down to a whisper, low and pitiful. He was already regretting. “Yes, this is personal…”

Salvation or the opposite, but the phone rang and Roman didn’t ignore that.

“Give me a few minutes.”

Trying not to eavesdrop, Jason approached the windows. It was not an actual window, but a full-glass wall, opening an astonishing view to night Gotham. Curtains swinging at the edges, dark and dense.

The glass caught his reflection, partly transparent, but it was enough to see his bruises didn’t heal yet. One on the forehead and one across the bridge of the nose. Dark circles around eyes. Street beaten dog came to a human who had enough money to waste and let him eat. That's what he was.

Nothing but a part of Gotham suburban street.

Why still alive, Todd?

**…ABANDONED SOUL…**

“What do you want?” Sionis pulled him out of imagery darker than black leather of the mask. The man already finished the short conversation and got his way to the window, slowly.

Jason watched him through the reflection, fluid outlines of a human.

“I am in need of distraction…” he finally said. It was a bad idea to get cold feet now. Sionis could see this as disrespectful behavior. “Slade said, you can help with taking one’s mind off lots of bad stuff.”

First Sionis didn’t answer. He put his hands into slacks pockets and sighed.

“Wilson’s a super-soldier sick man with maniac desires. If you break his body, take to every atom, he won’t die and will be safe and sound in just several hours. He came to me before you became a part of his life, as far as I recall. And the only need of his was distraction from spare time. He was busy just taking himself healed. It was nothing about pleasure or any real troubles.”

Slade did that? Came to Sionis in order to have no spare time? That was his purpose…? Well, Jason knew him quite well. And he had no doubt in Roman’s words.

As Sionis shifted, Jason’s short hair on the back of the neck stood up.

Almost felt breathing, even and silent.

“So I ask you one more time: what type of distraction do you want? You are no super-soldier, but a simple man. What is it to you that you saw no other ways but come to me? Think it over, think well.”

Tense air, hard to breath. Jason got no power, no will to struggle with the increased pulse. Could not hold his breath, but notice it became shallow. What was it? His decision to come here… A desperate movement or it was really something, an intent, secret wish of him?

He… didn’t know.

“Dreams,” Jason said, eyes to the floor, where no need to watch reflections. No need to see ghosts of Her words. “Haunting dreams. Painful. Hurting.”

“I’m no therapist. If your problem interferes with your duties, you better go to a specialist.”

It didn’t, he wanted to say.

Wanted to somehow justify himself.

And no idea came to him. Every word stuck in his throat and was reluctant to go out.

“So? You will stand here and waste my time? Time is money, Jason.”

Was it a mistake…?

He was a fool, thinking he could ask for what was not designed for him. This point found its response, aching in his chest.

Fast glance to the city view, and he caught Roman’s hand movement. Gloved fingers touched his back, stroked under the leather jacket, feeling fairly warm.

“I’m sorry, sir… I shouldn’t…”

“Quite a coincidence, Jason, that I  _ do _ have an interest in you. Remember me being a businessman? I believe everything’s got its price. And you should believe this too if you want to have further… requests met positively by me. You want my time? You should offer something in exchange for me seeing any profits. Understand?”

Finger tips already touch his bare skin under the shirt.

Thundering, strange feeling.

“I… Understand.” Jason swallowed. “But… What can I offer you? I don’t think there’s…”

“Let’s say, it will be dinner.”

What?

“Yes, dinner is enough for the first time,” Roman took his hand away and straightened the shirt and the jacket. “Dinner, just you and me. And you answer all my questions. Telling the truth only. I find it a fair deal.”

Sounded not like bargains with the devil. Of course, Sionis wanted to know more after he had a talk with Joker. Too obvious to hear that. What else could he demand then?

Well… Nothing stopped Jason from rushing into it.

“Deal.”

“Smart decision of a smart boy. Now…” a soft touch to shoulder told Jason to turn around and face Black Mask. Skull.  _ Skulls, skulls, skulls… _ _ White noise at the peripheral of the conscience _ . “Tell me, what is your most sensitive spot? Maybe, part of the body.”

…red eyes. Red. Flame. A strong contrast against the green light of his grave.

Jason didn’t want to come back.

“My arms,” he shifted to let the biker jacket fall to his feet. Only the T-shirt remained. “The inner part, sir.”

“You’re off duty right now.”

“…Roman. The inner part of arms, Roman.”

Then a haze wrapped his mind. Not cutting from the reality, but easing his breath and pulse, taking away his shiver. He was ordered to sit down on the table while Roman, whistling a familiar tune, searched for instruments. That was what he exactly said. ‘Instruments’.

“Tell me more about dreams. Why do they bother you?”

Dark soft material covered his eyes, he heard metal clinging. Something made of steel.

Dreams, he said, repeating one another. Never changing and never giving him any opportunity to run away. Or recall anything, just thick smog walls.

“And you worry about inability to remember?”

At the start there were only gloved hands and strong cologne scent that made him tremble. Sionis was extremely skillful when pressing on his muscles, accurately and both unmistakably finding most tensed spots. Blood rushing to those places, a strange feeling. With his eyes covered, Jason found himself more nervous than he supposed.

“Your face,” Roman cupped his cheeks with both hands and tilted a bit up. “Such a mess. Do a favor, watch yourself.” Fingers touched the nose bridge, gently.

“It will heal. Till morning.”

“Glad to know. Now… You may sit silent or be loud – it’s up to you, Jason. Relax and do whatever you find comfortable. If anything goes wrong, stop me and tell me about my mistakes. Feel free.”

Nothing was bad.

Not a second wrong.

New experience of sitting on the table with arms stretched out and given to another person was… Overwhelming. He never thought he was  _ that _ sensitive. Light, barely felt contact leather-to-skin sent cascades of chill over the body.

As his arms warmed, came the steel. Daggers Roman used were sharp, smooth and cool. Nothing but metal touched him. Flashes in the darkness behind closed eyes were responses to each scratch, to each drop of blood coming out of cuts. The tip of dagger started its way from elbow crease, then – lower, snaking, changing pressing force; from tickling to stinging and back.

Whispers he tried to recall gone.

Nothing remained, but his labored breathing and quiet moaning.

Roman was too close to him, he realized.

He felt his body between spread legs, felt too strong. Concentrated on the cologne, stark and so harsh, so tart… The heat, melting his blood and veins and every last thought, waved upon him, mind and body. Heat that caused blush on cheeks and was hard down there. Making his pants too tight.

It was terrifying and thrilling, and so hot. It tempted him too much.

“Jason,” Roman’s voice was low, solid. Making him bump into his shoulder with his head and groan louder. “You want something?”

The cologne, the closeness of another man’s skin under the shirt (…Sionis took his jacket off…?) were his ocean. A steady wave of imposition, of another man’s will erased every hint, allusion of Her presence. She existed no more in his mind for now. Sionis became his big water, brushing wet sand and eliminating any prints.

Roman.

It was Roman.

So damn good, so right and confident, and his hands…

…that made the steel dance…

“S-stop…” Jason gasped and pressed his head harder to Sionis’ shoulder. “Roman, p-please, stop now.”

Supernova exploding in his head, when the ‘mouth’ of the mask is close to his ear. And Roman’s words – everything he wanted to live for.

“What a good boy,” Roman stroked the inner of his thigh. “That’s right. And don’t you dare touch yourself tonight, Jason Todd.”

“Y-yes, Sir.”


	4. “Affected by distance”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is not a sunny-fluffy fic, believe me. Just in case if you have this idea after reading the chapter.  
> Not a spoiler! <3

_“The distance is nothing when one has a motive.”_

Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

The morning dim and dull, and no hint it would bring a nice bright day. Gotham sinking in smog and heavy clouds, touching the tops of skyscrapers. The beginning of April not as much sunny as March was. Like period when the rest of the winter decided to make a final farewell began. North wind already risen, lowering the temperature to almost zero. Snowflakes ashen-like, flying across the city. It was not any kind of a snowfall at all. Just pity reminder of the past season.

At that particular morning Roman felt something went wrong with his Ring. He noticed it burnt his skin when Jason came to him, but today was different. The Ring was pulsating and demanding his owner to pay attention, but Roman knew nothing about reading symbols of alien jewelries. He had no idea of how to communicate with this kind of technology, but he definitely was aware of not using his power.

In other case his signal would be seen.

They would come.

And that would be very bad not only for Roman.

Everything could be much easier if he had a chance to relive his past. Not all the past, but peculiar parts of it, images important and easing his life.

“Sir?” Circe. Reminding him about the schedule, of course. She knocked three times, not even trying to open his apartment door. “The Janus board of directors about to gather in the meeting hall. You have twenty minutes to be ready, sir.”

Board of directors… A strangely intricate routine. He needed to have a distraction in order to be more cold-head when thinking about the Ring.

“Already coming. Thank you.”

Disappearing sound of heeled shoes told him Circe gone.

Roman touched the Ring’s flat surfaced with the tip of thumb. Unknown metal pulsated more than usual, but not strong enough to be noticed by others under the glove. His right hand almost fully seeped with black essence the Ring was emitting all the time. His skin became black, from finger tips to the wrist. It didn’t hurt, he felt nothing at all.

The process stopped several years ago.

All this time Ring was silent. And when Jason Todd appeared in his sight, it changed. Could this be: Jason was…

Nonsense. He didn’t need to speculate and guess. He was to have his answers today at the dinner. Todd would open his secrets, at least, most of them. And then Roman would be able to see, if the boy is worth his attention.

Some part of him knew the outcome.

And it didn’t mean anything good.

_“The boy doesn’t play our side, remember my words, Sionis,” Joker’s voice never forgotten after the last talk, when he firstly saw Jason singing on the stage. “He is never bad guy, as we are. But if you treat him well, he will be loyal forever. How it’s called, Harley? Psychology of a beaten street dog? No? Well, at least it works this way.”_

_“The way of a dog?”_

_“Yes, yes! You give him a milk-bone, and he gives you livers of your foes roasted till medium-well.”_

He knew the clown prince pretty well. And obviously he couldn’t believe the one like Joker would ever be careful to someone for nothing. Using Jason was kind of profit for him, but what it was? What else could the kid hide?

***

“…I see something gray and it’s covered with gray, and surrounded by some gray shit.”

Floyd took a long waiting glance at him, but Jason didn’t try to even smile. It was a very boring mission. They knew Sionis worried about ‘goods’ to be secure and safe, but there were two, TWO, fake trucks! Even if Batman managed to trace down one of them, he definitely got no chance to track the original one.

“Now I see why they call you a Deadshot.”

“Why?”

“Your dead jokes shot me.”

Jason offered him a lighter and a smoke.

“Fuck you, Hood.”

They took first deep hit simultaneously and even exhaled at once, cigarette smoke diffusing with cold air.

“Fuck you, Shot.”

Telling the truth, Shot was right: only shades of gray around, a mess of dirty snow on the roof they had been sitting for couple of hours, both thinking about freezing balls for nothing. It was idea of Roman himself, he didn’t even ask Victor for advice as he used to do. The whole squad, including Deadshot (Floyd called it ‘starring’) sitting on every roof according to chosen segment during the route till the very last point, docks. Then the ‘goods’ were supposed to travel on board of trade ship across the ocean and come to wandering hands of Sionis’ trade partners.

Truck driven by super loyal and super professional people of Black Mask, Jason never saw their faces under masks – copies of Roman’s, but having several differences.

Jason and Floyd got their so-called checkpoint somewhere in the middle of the route, and the truck already passed it successfully. Time to time, about one in an hour, they heard “Clear” in their comms. It meant the truck passed other points.

“Still don’t understand why this shit is happening,” Shot took a seat at the edge of roof, legs hung down. His shoulder too warm even under the uniform, Jason couldn’t resist to press it. At least one spot of his body would not have a cold. “You know, the Bat is a fury, and you…”

He became silent, when the penultimate checkpoint was passed.

“…you working on Sionis for this long. You’ve never been a long-termed guy. Does he make kinda loyalty vaccination?”

“Money’s better than loyalty,” Jason didn’t believe his own words. Neither did Floyd.

“So, having plans after this ends?”

“If that’s a date invitation, you need to ask daddy Joker. I’m not allowed to date with people who fucked him up.”

Shot laughed and pushed him with an elbow. It was no fault if his when Joker was put in Arkham. Despite the fact Deadshot organized his escape, the clown never wanted to see him anywhere around.

“Fuck you, Jason. I’m asking ‘cause I’ve got an interesting hunt deal. Thought you would be interested in tasting Serbian stuff.”

“NO WAY! You’ve got that rifle?”

Long ago, about a year or even more, Shot bragged he was about to buy a pretty rare old fashioned Serbian sniper rifle. Slade called it ‘elder sister’ of his Black Arrow (‘Crna strela’ in original). It had a nice vintage design, and the most part of interest was that the one particular model was not ever dismantled since the date of release. There were just three rifles in the world, and their price was enough to buy a small island. High quality of the body, unique anti-materiel ammo of limited edition, incredible piercing potential…

In a word, Jason was deadly disappointed of the lost opportunity to touch the legend by his bare hands.

He had a dinner with Sionis tonight. Not to say it was something bad, but he dreamed about the rifle much longer than about seeing Sionis in informal setting.

“Do have plans. Lots of job.”

“Loser.”

They took a new cigarette each and smoked again.

“Yeah, I know. So… I see something gray and it’s covered…”

“Fuck you! I was first to start, Riding Hood!”

***

One of his safehouses was in strong need of renovation. Redecorating, at least. Gotham’s poorest district, the apartment building already renovated a couple of times, but never done properly. Damp plaster, creaking floor, wind walking between wall holes. But even here, in place where druggies slept on the staircases, Jason found his advantages. He was not fool at all and he would never choose safehouse in an unsafe place.

Walls still thick enough to isolate any sound. You could scream at the top of your lungs, but no one would ever hear you.

Jason didn’t know if it was an idea when the block was in draft form, but he had all facilities for staying unknown, safe, not disturbed by anyone. Poor, junkies, alcoholics were quiet for some reason here. Police were rare visitors for this district.

Gotham had its secret places and was always on guard of its dark side.

And besides…

“Fuck,” his reflection in the mirror told him he had no ironed clothes.

This particular apartment was the last place his family, his real family, used to live.

“It doesn’t look bad if you’re worried about making a good impression,” Clark stopped examining his collection of tactical daggers. “Suppose, Sionis won’t pay much attention to your appearance since he’s seen lots of mess on the streets.”

Taking off black shirt, Jason shook his head and started choosing clothes again. He didn’t have much. And especially he didn’t have anything for a dinner in the restaurant. T-shirts, one hoodie, couple of pants, crosses. Oh, and old shoulder harness, chewed by Harley's hyenas.

“I think I should better not look like a piece of…” Jason threw the harness away, noting to get rid of it. “What about Dick? Still wants to beat me up? Warn him, I’ll not hesitate to kick his ass if he’s not going to leave B. It’s too long even for him to understand.”

Grayson continued ignore him, Clark said. It had been a while since Superman announced his agreement with Jason, and Richard just stopped talking to him. Sometimes he missed League meetings, he never wanted to discuss the situation neither with Clark, nor with anyone else. Anyone-not-Bruce. And after Dick knew Clark was going to use his journalist authority and skills and accuse Batman of terrifying crimes, he gone mad.

“What the material be like? Want to make some drafts before… You know, before it will start. It’s not going to be fast, Jason.” Kent took a seat on a chair. His eyes lit by tiredness. Even steel had its melting temperature. “You sure you want to participate? Diana’s plan isn’t bad at all, and using Rob…”

“I’m sure. And don’t want to talk. But thanks for being concerned. We will stop him, you have my word. And I want people to know the real face of the Knight. They…” At the end of endless attempts to make his wrinkled clothes look good, he chose the black hoodie. As he met his own eyes in the mirror, he could not end the phrase.

For one short second he thought it was Jason Todd from the past.

A kid never imagined what a piece of rare shit his life could turn.

Maybe it was the effect caused by Her absence? A hint for him? Something to be aware of?

“If you ever have any problem, Jason, you just need to pronounce my name.”

It could be felt strangely – knowing Richard was in sort of relationship with a ‘Steel Man’, and that gave Jason lots of advantages. It could feel, if not other strange things happened to him. For example, being killed and resurrected.

“I know.”

Was it a real support? Or just one more person needing him as a source of trouble fixing? Those words of Hers gave a birth to lots of bad thoughts and ideas, and conclusions. He became more paranoid about surrounding world and people he knew. Jason never had any illusion of being truly dear and loved. He never let himself be naïve, trustful.

But it was difference between a skillful professional and a tool.

***

It was early a bit, and that made him more nervous. Sitting at the table, closed by the other space with thick curtains was new for him. The feeling of too intimate setting colored his cheeks with blush and made his hands take a smoke and squeeze it stronger than needed while he was inhaling. It was no secret Roman wanted to know more. Hell, anyone would love to know more about the fact of resurrection.

All he needed was to filter every bit of information. Not to tell lies, Roman could see him lying. But Jason didn’t intend to tell all the truth as he promised. Sionis had no need to know him being a Robin at the start of the career. And Jason could only nurse his hope that Joker didn’t give a hint to Roman about ‘R’ costume.

Red. Everything around him was of dark red, almost wine color. The curtains, the tablecloth, candles and lampshades. Red and gold. Why they actually needed both lamps and candles lit? The rich men stuff?

Resembling Wayne’s common living room so much.

Rich people definitely got their taste similar.

“Bloody bastard…!”

Roman rushed into the close space of their table, throwing his jacket on the back of the chair and his phone on the table. He almost fell on his seat, his head back, and took a heavy sigh.

Jason knew this state.

But it first time he saw Roman’s shirt upper buttons undone. Just three or four, but they opened a bit of his chest with thick black hair. And glistening golden cross on a thin golden chain.

His skin. Bare skin, Jason was so close to it _that_ night.

He took a breath and counted to ten, calming himself down and trying to re-focus. Thankfully, Roman did his best to distract both of them from dark thoughts.

“I never sorry for being late ‘cause I’m never late, but this case… God sees, the man will play to death. And I’ll show him his mistakes.” Roman’s arms also bared, he got his sleeves rolled up. But the gloves still on, as always. “Already know what to order? If not, I recommend everything, they have amazing cuisine, trust me.”

With the last words Roman offered him a menu.

And the silence was worse than the waiting. Jason felt Roman’s presence with every fiber of his being. The smell, the quiet sound he made when turning pages over. Breath, glances, everything. Like the atmosphere of the close private lounge space differed, it was tense and heated up.

And questions, they were closer now.

Questions and memories, and necessity of filtering his words.

And lot of more problems he tried to leave behind restaurant doors.

“Everything’s alright?”

Roman staring at him like he missed something.

“It’s… It’s okay, why asking? Eh… Sir?”

Stupid feeling of not matching this place. Hands shaking even after smoking, though this habit was always an emergency when needed to calm down; not only time killing. And yet, he found it was hard to swallow when Roman asked him, saliva thick and dense in his mouth. Like he was about to die or open some sides of his life he was not supposed to show to anyone.

Point of no return? That was a proper name of premonition.

“Either you are not as smart as you pretend to be, or you are too nervous to behave yourself while not on duty.” Roman tilted his head on the side, watching Jason’s reaction with close attention. “What makes you tremble? Something happened? If you want, you can smoke whenever you feel necessary without asking for permission.”

Full with embarrassment, Jason tried to hide his eyes behind the menu. God, he was already fucking up. It was bad, so bad, oh god, fucking god – any of existing – please, help him not lose his face.

“Got a rough day,” He finally said, fidgeting on his chair. “Shot kicked my mind out with his new purchase, and the whole mission… Dubious pleasure, you know. Sitting and doing literally nothing.”

Surprisingly, but chattering seemed to help, taking his mind away from deep thoughts and images of the nearest future. Reflecting about today he could hold himself still, more confident.

“And I would like steak and white wine. Any for your taste, if you don’t mind.”

The worst part was Sionis good at keeping silence. He could watch and examine Jason’s face and gestures, and expression, and say nothing. Only eyes sparkling like dull old blood, Jason could not read anything in those eyes. The mask distracted, it made a fake face, and every feature made him want to strip this piece of leather off. To see what it hid. Not seeing any display of human emotion played bad games with his nerves.

And he was in no need of more stress.

“Nervous about conversation?”

He put the menu aside, biting lower lip painfully. Why he not able to gather himself? Because of red eyes and strange mess of feelings, because of the night they had, because of deathly gamble he was in. And he had none to fully trust and tell everything. To moderate weight on shoulders. Someday it would bury him. Once and forever.

But having hope was not anything bad?

Roman was nice when he met his request… Could Jason rely on his position? Was he given the right of a special person? Doubtfully, speaking of Sionis. Jason was no Slade ‘Deathstroke’ Wilson. Did not have his respect in eyes of others, neither got his years of becoming honored.

Roman would get his answers for his personal profits.

He needed information, not a person.

“You know… You should know, there’s no good thing about me. Nothing interesting, nothing one can call worth of time. The truth you’ll hear costs nothing. It can give nothing. No profits, no money.”

‘I am nothing,’ he wanted to say. And that was the truth. He was not worth spending time. Money – for his skills. Not _for him_.

The waiter appeared suddenly and without any warning. Like he had known the exact moment of interrupting.

Roman was the one to speak, the repeated Jason’s order and took something for himself, Jason did not catch while heartbeat was too loud in his head. He twisted his hands and fingers under the table unconsciously. The very last thing he managed to hear was ordering two bottles of wine – red and white.

“Bottles? We really need that much of drinking?” Asked before thinking after waiter gone.

But Sionis saw nothing to be dissatisfied with. He spoke in calm voice, pretty friendly or at least open.

“Why, I don’t like to have a talk broken because of lack of drinks. It’s not obligatory to finish the bottle at all, I assure you. You know, I hardly have free evenings to spend them this way. And if there’s an opportunity, I never miss my chance to gain…”

“Benefits?”

He almost saw Roman rolled his eyes. The eyelids seemed to be normal, though Jason could not see the exact skin color. He knew what happened to real face of Sionis. He saw Slade’s docs, the man got lots of files and records, and nice part of it was taken from Wayne’s – no, Bat’s – cave.

But he supposed there should not be any lid. Surgery…?

“It’s ‘satisfaction’, Jason,” the voice became softer, as if Sionis did not intend to anyhow show foolishness of his guess. But still, he did. “I never miss a chance to gain satisfaction. I’m just a mere man, I have my own interest not only in business and capital. There are few things to make me find a spare night to see a young mercenary who’s been through an interesting vertigo of events.”

The food was quick to be served.

Roman so close to ask.

“Bon appetit.”

The steak was good. Though he could barely eat a piece or two, most of time spent in cutting equal squares of meat. The smell was good too, aroma of meat cooked on open fire could cause anyone’s drooling. Not Jason. He was a person to lose any will of eating when nervous.

Instead, he served himself a wine. And after the very first sip he was sure he needed to drink as much as possible. In order to forget. To be just drunk and not realize his own state.

“So, you want to know about my death?” Asked almost in whisper, he leaned back, holding his glass of wine at watching Roman’s hand cutting his ravioli. “Where to start? The moment itself, the tunnel, the bright light…?”

Hands stopped for a moment.

“Singing.”

And renewed working on dividing the meal to smaller parts.

Singing?

“You’re a good singer,” the fly of mask zipped and Jason lowered his glance, doubting if it was polite to watch the man in the mask eating. “I’d like to know how you came up with singing. Was it your desire or something made you attend school of arts?”

Second and third, and even fourth sip of wine seemed not to make him tipsy.

“It wasn’t an art school,” memories never hard to recall. “Church choir. I used to sing in a choir. At one moment my parents became too poor to send me to school. And the church had… They called it ‘Programme for the Disadvantaged’. And that’s it. The only stuff able to help me gathering my thoughts and take away from shitty reality.”

“And you need to get away from reality?”

Shit. He did not plan to talk about that personal theme.

One more sip, and his glass already empty.

“After dying I was unstable for some time. Hearing voices, seeing nightmares. The stuff they show on TV sometimes works in real life. Harley was my therapist, and if you gonna laugh at it, you better not. She’s got Ph.D., and she helped me a lot.” A pause to drink and take a glance. And see Roman not eating but watching attentively. “Sometimes I didn’t hear my own thoughts. Like a crowd of people being stuck in my head, screaming, shifting, never calm. She said, vocal practice makes good when needed to concentrate and hear myself. And… if speaking about music psychology, loud singing serves as kinda sublimation. You accumulate the energy and rearrange it into something socially appropriate.”

His wine glass became empty much faster than the first time. Well, the alcohol loosened his tongue finally and he already could ignore stressful points. Silent Roman, for example.

“I know what you’d like to hear, Roman.” Sipping again seemed to soften taste of wine. Peripheral sight blurry a bit. “The death. Not much to tell…”

There it was. The moment of truth. He tried not to think of what he should not speak. Instead, the trusted himself and went on telling. It was not hard at all, the only thing was to avoid names.

“…poor boy from poor family. Mom gets an overdose while dad got a shot. I couldn’t save mother, just watched her mouth full of froth, body twisting, becoming blue. Then the church, I slept a while there. Then comes a guy, you know, guys with money never ignore charity. I was adopted. Got food every day, personal tutors and stuff…”

Watching the wine flashing with color of golden and red, reflected from other surface, Jason almost stepped into Wayne’s manor. Almost heard fireplace crackling, Alfred doing his housework. His hands, his fingers remembered smooth keypads of piano in the common living room.

“…one day I discovered what I must not have heard. And I saw that…” The more he drunk the clearer picture of particular night he saw. “The guy turned out to be a pedophile. He participated in shipping orphans. They’re supposed to be sold. And he was intended to buy several of ‘em.”

The further, the darker. He did not expect impression to be strong after all those years.

“Did he…?”

Roman became silent as Jason shared him a heavy look.

Blurry became everything around except the mask of Sionis.

“He didn’t touch me. Never tried. Until he learned I eavesdropped about his… Deal.” In two gulps he ended the bottle. “He tried to kill me. Not figuratively. I managed to escape and was trapped by Joker. The guy owed him a lot, and Joker knew I was adopted by this person. And… you know. Joker never forgets about debts. He said, I could help him and those children…”

Then was an abandoned factory. Orphans were supposed to be there, but Joker was first to get them. And Slade helped with taking them to shelter.

“Wilson was always a compassionate fellow when talking about children in trouble,” Roman noted and then came silent again.

He was right, though.

“He asked to trust him, and I did. The guy came to the factory and it exploded. I felt nothing when died. Joker took my body to the Lazarus Pit. And that’s all. I can tell noting more.”

Jason expected questions about his story. Leading and clarifying. There were several points he knew needed to be explained, but Roman did not torture him. All he did was pouring his own glass with red liquid, shifting a bit away from the table and patting his lap.

“Come ‘ere.”

No a thought why he would do that, but next moment he found himself on his legs, feeling drunk numbness. And sore after telling a story. Half of his mind not here, but in other part of Gotham, running away from the furious Knight.

The cheek with the ‘J’ mark burning.

“Roman, I-I… I don’t think…”

Being pulled forward, he sat on man’s laps. At one second sank in the cologne scent, later – in soft caress. His hands took the offered glass. He never liked red wine. But could not refuse.

Only obey and squeeze Roman’s thighs with his knees and try to at least focus on the mask, a vague dark spot.

“Sing, Jason. Sing for me.”

And he sang. Sang to the ocean, its waves smoothing out wet sand full of ugly prints again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, I didn't want the chapter to be that big, just wanted to show several key moments.
> 
> Tried to make allusions to several bio versions Jason Todd has, including canon AU (can I say 'canon AU' actually?). After Flashpoint Jason became a priest, as far as I remember. So... why can't he sing in church choir in my AU? xd
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	5. “Happy D.day”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the last chapter with low dynamics.  
> The further we go, the more action we see (i hope xd)

_“To die —to sleep:_

_No more; and, by a sleep to say we end_

_The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks_

_That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation_

_Devoutly to be wished.”_

Shakespeare, Hamlet

Nature had no plans for him to do a favor. The clutch so bad, he needed to slow down too often in order to fit into sudden turn. Drops of water attacked his helmet with aggression, like he was an intruder on the territory he did not belong to. And that was almost true. Today's destination was no more his future, no prediction could show him his grave.

But it was twenty-seventh of April.

The day when he was born and the day of descent to Her embrace.

The particular graveyard, the place to visit today, located on a distant wasteland, pretty far from Gotham. With all conditions, such as heavy rain, thick smog seemed to be filled with pins of ice, it took him about hour and a half to get there. Dear old Yamaha, fixed and renovated countless times by his own hands, already carried him here couple of years ago. Maybe, more. He didn’t want to attend this place for several reasons.

And he thought, he just was not ready.

When he saw the tombstone the very first time, Slade had to bound him and force to take strong tranquilizers. Billions of voices teared his mind apart, they screamed and scratched inside, trying to get out of his head. And She was their leader. She was the loudest voice.

Now… Only She remained.

But after his breakdown She chose to be silent on the twenty-seventh of April.

He did not know if She was guarding him from others, but it was nice. One day and one night a year when he allowed to feel himself as a sole ruler of the body. To feel normal. To pretend to be a simple mortal human. Like… everyone.

Thankfully, Sionis met his request of a day-off with enthusiasm. If that word could ever be used to Black Mask. Though, he stayed a classic example of himself when threw unexpected questions to Jason’s back when he was already to leave the parlor.

_“I just wonder… The guy that adopted you. He’s still alive?”_

_Why? Why didn’t he ask this at the dinner? Why waiting for a moment?_

_“Yes, Sir. But I’m working on it.”_

_“Good.”_

What was that supposed to mean? Did Joker gave Roman more information than Jason was hoping? Or Slade…? No, no way. Slade never sold information too cheap. And _that_ was definitely an information to sell expensive as hell. Wilson once promised him to keep a secret. And… not to be a dick, but Jason knew he was Slade’s weak spot. As Robin and even after.

Roman was not fool at all, his secrets surely cost more that Gotham and nice part of US. Could that happen he guessed about Jason’s past? It was not too difficult, if one had his suspicions. On the other hand, Jason never stopped being attentive to smallest parts of his life. Devil in details.

None of data base contained any mention about ‘Jason Todd’ or Todd family, or ‘Peter Todd’, or about his mother. Nothing about Bruce Wayne adopted anyone, except Richard ( _You’re such a DICK!)_ and Timothy. No city archives. Nothing to trace his past.

And maybe… Roman’s words meant nothing.

Like their dinner.

Jason had no wish to recall that awful side of his. He had pretty enough shit to deal with. Especially today.

“Hey, buddy. It’s been a while since our last meet, right?” The gravestone kept its usual silent mood when Jason sat down, right on wet ground, not bothering with now dirty clothes. The stone cold and slipping when he leaned to it. “You know, I ‘m here to tell some shit to you.”

Heavy rain still pouring its rage on the city. No chances for good forecast on this particular day, so Jason did not even try to cover his head, though he had his bike helmet. Not the Red one. It was mourning today, the black color matched better.

“You know, I’m sorry. Sorry for you being always fifteen and never know how it is – to be an adult. To hear your cracking voice, and hormones’ final explode.”

The bottle taken from the backpack was sweaty, already covered with drops of condensate. But rain washed it over, like in attempt to stop Jason from being drunk while visiting cemetery. Desperate and useless attempt. Whiskey, hot liquid wheat, burned his throat.

“Lucky you are not to be resurrected and lose your mind. It’s painful. Lucky, true! No good in forgetting own name for two years. Just can you fucking imagine? I couldn’t remember I was… Someone.”

It seemed blasphemous to touch the engraved name with a glove, so he took it away with teeth and pressed his hand to letters. Their contour polished, precise. Not a single angle crushed yet. The stone just dark marble, common material for tombs. Wet, sleek and plain. Gray – dark and light, with inclusions of white little spots. Those spots shiny when the sun was up. Shiny and friendly.

“I fucked us up. I’m a loser. I’m sorry for your bright future never exist.” Jason closed his eyes, pressing the bottle toward lips. Head on stone, hair combed back with solid streams of heaven water. “I was afraid of coming here. To see you and know that you will never smile and laugh, and make plans, and kick asses. Shame is all about me. I took your life without any right to do that. Will you ever forgive me? I doubt, ‘cause…”

Something in his throat shifted. Spasm attacked him, taking all the words away and making him gulp whiskey; he was drinking till the bitter taste of alcohol replaced lump of tears blocking his confession.

Tears.

He was not able to feel them or realize.

“…’cause you’ll never become angry, or anything! You are victim of my foolishness and ego! I stole what was yours without giving anything back! I’m fucking bastard deserving to die and I can’t even do that! I’m nothing, fucking echo of a boy who wasn’t supposed to die! And your name…”

He almost fell with face to dark soil, forehead and cheeks stained in mud. Almost touching the stone with temple.

“…I don’t deserve it, buddy. Take it, please, away. And keep. ‘Cause it’s the only fucking thing I can give back.”

Distant sound of a car stopped. Minutes passed, and he was no longer under streams of rain, but covered with umbrella.

Alfred.

Came to give him the ‘input’ to destroy Batman’s image in public eyes. And, of course, to show he was sorry. Jason knew, the butler was sorry not for him, but for another Jason. The boy who died, the second Robin. New Jason didn’t deserve that. New Jason was not Jason, but some piece of a dirt, for some reason thrown back to stomp on the earth with his fucking feet. Identity and memories, and way of thinking, glance and stance, he didn’t resemble the dead boy. Jason knew, he was something – _not even someone_ – inhuman.

But Jason Peter Todd was dead. Once and forever.

“I wish you rest in peace, buddy. Somewhere… Where angels sing and stuff. And you never alone. I’m sorry. And my promise… Don’t worry. Son of a bitch will suffer. I will raise hell for it. You will be avenged. That’s what I’m here for.”

Speechless, Alfred gave him the memory card and a tight hug, tightest he could ever give.

***

His return to ‘base’, skyscraper Roman was owning, was as bad as his mood after cemetery. Guys. The squad, steady and ready to go and chill out somewhere suddenly remembered his birthday date was today. It was pretty hard to get rid of them; especially with only Vic knowing his true past they caused lots of distrust. And that did no good. The squad got its fame to be a strong, unified and cohesive collective of mercenaries. And that image was almost impossible to support when having dissonance in group.

Next level of anxiety unlocked when Jason faced Circe in lift cabin. Doors almost closed, but she succeeded to get in at the very last moment. It took her few seconds to change in face and wrinkle her nose.

“You’re smelling like a street drunk bum! And this dirt…” She looked him up and down. And pretty face behind huge round glasses turned in clear disgust. “Hope you’re not going to penthouse?”

He was.

It was not even necessary for him to answer, Circe found some glint in his eyes enough to know. And that was convenient. He had neither will, nor energy to argue. Only fifteen floors left, fourteen already, to tolerate and somehow stand her petty insults.

“…Impossible! I told Sionis you’re just a pack of animals! You don’t appreciate someone else’s work! Staff is exhausted cleaning up every day after your filthy booze! I told him, you’re ungrateful barbarians…!”

Three.

Two.

One.

Penthouse.

Circe pressed pile of papers tighter as they walked across long hallway. She – with staccato of heels; Jason – with dark brown footsteps, staining on the carpet-like surface. Motorcycle helmet in one hand, his backpack in another, dripping with rain water.

Barbarians, she said.

What could you ever know about all of them, little office mouse?

“Mr. Sionis, sir! I told him not to come in this form, but he not listening to me! The mess! Terrible mess…!”

Circe’s shouting entered the parlor before both of them.

Roman seemed to be confused when secretary threw the documents just upon the papers he was actually signing at the moment of their appearance. Jason noticed his first look was addressed to him, and only then – to Circe. Slowly, he put down the pen, stood up, putting hand into pockets.

Jason saw, even with the mask, Roman was tired. And Circe’s disturbing complaining was not nice to hear at all. His posture, hands too tensed. Voice with notably repressed hints of irritation.

“I do appreciate your haste, dear Circe. Though I never asked you to rush in like a bad-mannered second-rate janitor. The ‘mess’ is what you’ve made right now.” Roman nodded towards the table, where new documents covered chaotically the papers he was working on. “As far as I can see, Mr. Todd has a bit…dirty clothes. Have you seen what’s outside? I mean, the weather, Circe.”

“B-but, sir…”

Barely heard sound, it was Roman inhaling deeply through nose. Oh, God. He was angry indeed.

“ _Circe_. You speak when you’re _allowed to_ speak. And you do the work you’re hired to do. You’re neither cleaner, nor my HR adviser. So tell me: since when you’ve decided to judge people I’ve hired for doing NOT YOUR KIND OF JOB?”

Jason expected Circe to discuss, to argue, to stand on her point and make everything to show ‘barbaric behavior’ of him and the rest of squad. But he was wrong. She flattened out with perfect poise, looking not ashamed at all. Firstly, she gave a short bow towards Jason, and then – to Roman.

“I beg for a pardon, Mr. Todd and Mr. Sionis. My bad, I’ll fix that. Didn’t want to show myself as incompetent…”

Sionis let her go in a nervous gesture.

And fell on his chair, sighing.

“…she is incompetent. It’s third secretary I’ve got during a year. Don’t worry, you won’t see her tomorrow…” he glanced aside and a bit low. Shifted to put two packages wrapped in craft light brown paper on the table. Then the cake appeared. Awfully pink cake, closed from touching only by transparent plastic sphere-shaped lid.

No.

No fucking God.

Joker just did not do that.

Fuck.

He did.

“You know, Jason, I’m a tolerate person. But this is the first and the last time I’m passing anything to anyone like a postman.”

Hard to imagine how Joker managed to convince Roman to do this. To accept him, the clown prince, on his territory; to talk, Joker loved to talk a lot. And agree to pass the cake.

Fucking cake. Every year this fucking cake. And Roman now saw it. Jason could have felt more ashamed than Circe, but it was not possible with his level of weariness.

And two other packages must be presents from Harley.

Who else would…

“It won’t happen again…” Jason came closer to the table, keeping his glance on Roman’s eyes cautiously. “Sir, I have a request. I’m ready to pay for it. Pay more than it can cost.”

Sionis narrowed his eyes.

“What kind of request?”

“I need, really need, access to the roof.”

The roof was more restricted area than the penthouse where Roman kept his bedroom and quite lots of secret information.

Sionis kept not only copters on the roof – but, of course, what a skyscraper without a helipad. Jason did not think about things, and he had no motive to do that. He needed the roof for only a brief meeting.

He was to make his ‘input’.

“Why you need the roof?”

But it was not the time Roman could know more details about his past. Jason wanted to complete his old mission, and both turn to be more useful than Sionis could think.

Couple of weeks ago he thought about resources he could receive if having good relationship with Black Mask. Resources to get finally rid of the Gotham Knight.

And that required lots of smart moves, and something more Jason was never good at.

Foresight, predictions.

“I’ll tell you later. In all details, but…”

“Then I’ll give the access later, when the details become clear.”

Biting lip, Jason lowered his head. That how it worked in this world. You give something valuable to gain something, not necessary to be a significant benefit.

He was too tired to drive somewhere, a place hidden from curious glances.

Cameras remained on the roof, but everything was already worked out.

In his head.

And it did not work in real life.

“This is about the guy that adopted me. You asked me he’s still alive. This is part of my… work.”

“ _My_ roof is the part of _your_ work?”

Wrong words. Jason was good at fast reaction, not speeches.

“If you have no more arguments, Jason, you better go and wash yourself. Circe’s right about the mess, and I prefer to see my environment fresh and clean. And there’s work to do. Don’t forget your presents.”

Fuck.

Everything he touched was a mess of shit, like he got his anti-Midas hands effect. But Roman was right: he got nothing to tell. To sell, to give. Seemed their strange meeting and conversations were just a whim of Black Mask, nothing more, nothing less.

Well, that was not too offensive.

Jason always had to remind himself not to expect anything when opened to someone. Too late to be naïve and hope that the world would forgive that.

“I doubt that clown’s not familiar with the alphabet.” Roman’s voice reached him, as it got used to, when Jason was already to leave. “Just wondering: why ‘D. Day’ on the postcard?”

“It was my birthday when I died. It’s ‘Death Day’.”

***

_‘Who is John Galt?’_

The book asked him, but he had no answer yet.

‘Atlas shrugged’ was a gift from Harley, either was vintage revolver, Nagant. And new shoulder harness, replacement of the chewed one.

He had no appetite to try the cake. Jason was sure it tasted like a year ago, and a year before that. Always one cake. Nothing changed.

The book was a really nice gift. Harley signed it as a gift from a therapist to her patient. It meant she found this book useful for his distractions and moments when he needed to concentrate on self-awareness. It was an exercise he used to do, a part of Harley’s personal method. He was reading a book with a pencil and writing down every agreement and disagreement with ideas the book provided. And then it was supposed to discuss with Harley, but since their therapy ended, Jason did not get rid of the habit to write down in books.

It felt like acquiring something personal. Something he could call ‘mine’. His thoughts, his handwriting, his book. Something to own.

Jason was sitting on the floor in his room, leaned back to bed. Open book in his hands, couple of handwritten lines already darkening on the edge of the page. Phone vibrated once more, shortly, reminding about the message he got from Clark. It said that Kent was ready to take the memory card.

Forcing himself to answer was above his power. He just took a shower and changed clothes, that was all he had energy to do.

“Didn’t expect Joker to cook good.”

And one more habit played bad with him. Jason never shut his door.

This habit helped Roman to enter his room with no problem. Man was standing with hands in pockets, jacket off. Sleeves rolled up, buttons glistening dull on his gloves, on the wrist part. Mask darker as ever, as he stood in shaded part of room. The only source of light – bedside lamp and distant halo of corridor lights.

“This is the copy of the cake Joker made when I died.” Jason did not bother to stand up or hide disappointment in words. “The cake contained lots of painkillers. Deathly dose. That’s why I didn’t feel moment of death when explosion came.”

“How… thoughtful of him. Seems he cares of you.”

“At least, someone…”

Roman reached his place and squatted, hands out of pockets. His eyes sparkled with crimson flames in the dark, hardly catching the reflection of the lamp.

His cologne too strong, again.

Why did he use that amount of cologne?

“You believe he takes care of you, Jason?”

Was there any reason for Roman to be really interested? Why to ask? Why to come to him? Why talking? The thing he wanted to get from Jason – what could it be? Was it real? Or one more act of a whim?

“I don’t believe anything. I owe him, that’s all.”

Suddenly Sionis leaned forward, and Jason thought he would touch his face, but Roman’s hand found a strand. The grey one. Jason knew it. No need to see.

“It changed its color after resurrection,” he explained, lowering his voice like being afraid of someone to eavesdrop. “Nothing to do with that. Always grey.”

“Death mark.”

“Something… like that.”

Leather of the glove came down, caressing his temple, then lowering more, drawing the line of his cheekbone, then – jawline. It was smooth and its scent differed from the general cologne, but still was relaxing and washing every thought away. Temptation to close eyes too strong, especially when he got no power after pretty tiring day. But something held his glance straight, made him look into red eyes and shift not. Forget all words and trace only slight tension downside.

“If I ask you to do something, how far you can go, Jason?”

Anywhere.

Everywhere.

There existed no ‘far’ for him.

He wanted to say even more, but breathless to form any sound.

The second hand, free of his face, put a little piece of paper of the book page. But he could not look away. Or did not want to.

“The code. Access to the roof.” Roman leaned forward a little bit more, taking Jason’s face with both hands and looking somewhere farther, than human eyes could see. Feeling himself not deeper than evaporating summer puddle, Jason tried his luck to touch bare skin of Sionis’ hands.

They were hot.

Burning.

“Roman, I…”

The feeling of desperate hope.

Again.

He was a street dog again wanting to belong a place warm and nice. Place he did not deserve. And would not in thousand lives.

“…I want to be useful… Please.”

Answer was not immediate, Sionis traced the line of Jason’s lower lip with a thumb, pressing a bit. Like he heard not the words said, but something internal, something too personal to say out loud.

“The only thing you need, Jason, is not to be worried. You’re doing great.”

***

A flash, barely seen, more felt and predicted than really tangible, took the memory card away. Jason was sure, cameras on the roof were not that good to trace Superman when he moved with his huge speed. And… that was all, the true ending of the day.

Dark clouds still drifting on the night sky, but celestial bodies already seen. Stars and constellations, and the crescent trying to pour its cold light on the city.

Lying on the roof, open to all winds, Jason thought it would be great to have an opportunity that Clark had with his abilities.

Not to save thousands people per second, but to escape.

As far as possible, where nobody could bother him.

“To the moon… And never back...”

That was the last thought said aloud before he fell asleep on that roof.

And no voices disturbed him, as it was usually on his birthday.

Just darkness, warm and full of stark cologne scent.


	6. “For our sins we pay”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where Batman appears.
> 
> Warning: drugs mentioned. For not adults - drugs are bad. For adults: you have your own head to think.

_“...and in the eyes of the people there is the failure; and in the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.”_

John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

The storm began.

It was the day when he finally gathered all his knowledge and strength, the day he was ready to leave this world for the last time. She called this idea reckless and senseless since Jason was not blessed to die. But ten grams of coke in pocket rest him assure he would at least slip into coma. And that perspective seemed to be more attractive than to stay here and watch his mind falling into pieces.

Ten grams of stolen cocaine. If Vic able to notice it missing earlier than it was supposed to, Jason could get his plan failed. But the timing of B. route was ideal, as ever. Tim sent him all details about Knight’s movements today. The League already left their base. Taking into account it was built by Bruce (not by himself, but his tech and money used), they didn’t have a secure place for meetings. And Jason got a plan.

A bad plan; still better than nothing. But first things first.

He needed Bruce to be alone.

The only credible chance he would be defeated.

And the published article written by Clark… People were going to never believe Batman again.

**...NO ESCAPE FROM DESTINY. I WISH I COULD PROTECT YOU FROM HURTING YOURSELF, MY CHILD.**

“None can protect me. And none can protect _from_ me.” Jason raised his head to meet Her green eye sockets in the mirror. “I must become death. _His_ death.”

**YOU ALREADY ARE.**

***

****

**_“KNIGHT OF GOTHAM KILLED ROBIN! WHO’S NEXT?!”_ **

Looking at flashy article headline for the last time, Roman turned the laptop to Victor and Jason sitting in front of him. This information was published on the main Gotham news website. The video attached showed the very last moments of Robin, a teen boy in green-red uniform and vigilante eye mask. Batman saying about kids who were not supposed to interfere adult business. Robin shouting about illegal issues. Batman shot the boy with heavy caliber – his head literally exploded, though the moment censored.

C. Kent, the author of the article, did his job well.

Roman never knew the Kryptonian would be such a talent.

And the video… He was pretty sure Wayne would not mess him up in the nearest future, and that was the reason to end the squad contract. His plans executed successfully. Slade’s people helped him a lot, and they got their money, a nice sum need to say. Now the chaos among citizens caused by news would make Bruce Wayne, as known as Batman at the darkest time of the day, be more cautious. Clark Kent showed it possible to accuse him, and that could not be a limit. Sooner or later Wayne himself or his company would get a strike, and that was far too promising circumstances to buy equities. Prices would fall soon; it was just a matter of his prediction. And Roman knew he was good at business.

But everything could not be as good as you may hope.

His Ring more nervous than usual, warmed up when Jason Todd entered the parlor, and it was still heating up. Roman was not sure if it about to burn the glove, but he had little time for conversation.

And Jason…

Oh, Jason.

Seemed to be lost person, didn’t you? Full of secrets and surprises. And his sleeping on the roof that night was pretty strange trick. Sionis did not watch him long, but the fact of sleeping outside was something out of the ordinary. And his words about being usual, his past and the fact of death… Jason Todd had all chances to be person he needed to find.

And worst of it, Jason Todd wanted to be closer to Roman. With his beaten puppy sparkling glance and spirit of rebellious little devil. Such a contradiction. It was interesting to be involved, but still a bit dangerous.

Death, the aura flying around Jason. The scent that the Ring smelled and reacted to.

Why him?

“Finally,” Victor sighed, putting out his cigarette. His face showing several sleepless nights, and that was going to end today. As far as Roman was aware, Vic got a little daughter, not older than five or six, and loving wife waiting him wherever he went. A family mercenary guy, what a rarity. “Someone needed to show the B. his place. Whad’ya think, Hood?”

In the contrary of Victor’s emotional state, calm and diluted with just a bit of surprise, Jason’s was a storm, astounding and strong. The Ring’s power, even forced to douse, ‘gifted’ Sionis kind of empathy to other’s emotions. Sometimes it was useful: negotiations, making contracts, hiring people, etc.

And thankfully, most of the time Roman kept this ability under control. But there were rare, very rare times when it was hard to handle and detach himself from emotional state of a particular person. And Jason was one of that shit cases. That was the reason why Roman did not feel good seeing the boy wanted his attention.

Jason was an endless blizzard of emotions, like most of Arkham patients. It felt as dangerous as riding a leaky boat in big waters during storm. It took him inhuman efforts to keep distance from disastrous abyss.

Emotional Spectrum.

The strength and both weakness of other Rings, but not his.

He was above this shit.

Well...in a strange form.

“Dunno…” Jason’s got nothing about surprise or astonishment, or something when people learn crazy things like Batman killing his fellow Robin. Curiouser and curiouser, could Alice say. Jason might had seen the news already… “...it’s an assault to him. He won’t leave that without an answer. I’d better be careful in C. Kent’s place.”

Roman narrowed his eyes.

The Ring’s temperature increased a bit.

“You think Bruce Wayne will punish the journalist?” He asked slowly, watching Jason’s reaction.

And here it was.

Sharp note of shock, it did not suit the rest of the spectrum.

“You… Sir, you’ve just called Batman as Bruce Wayne?”

Jason reacted to his knowledge. Interesting…

“Well, if there’s any blind idiot not knowing his true identity, then it’s not me. It’s too obvious, don’t you think?” Roman interlocked his fingers under his chin. “No need to answer. I’d like to talk about your last mission. It’s not too complicated. The contract is over; this mission is more…a request. Information, that’s all I need. You’ve mentioned your source man lots of times, and I’m sure he or she is trusted. Bring me information about further Wayne’s plans, doesn’t matter if they are anyhow detailed. Is that possible?”

Sionis did not like the quick eye contact Jason and Victor exchanged.

Their emotions spoke about confuse.

“I think, it’s better for you two have a private talk,” Vic stood up, asking for a permission to go. “Todd’s got more to say, than me. Oh, you believe me, he does.”

Victor left the parlor and Roman trying to deal with the titanic hurricane of feelings. Jason looked depressed, contrast to massive waves of internal discord. It touched him, in a bad way. Hand started burning already. He did not know how long he could stand that.

“Speak.” Roman licked his lips, dehydrated, almost cracked under the mask because of too dry air. Hints of migraine started pulsating somewhere near the area of temples. “Concise, please.”

Oh yes, he was.

Jason was concise.

Fast to kill Roman’s self-control for this day.

“It was me,” Jason nodded towards the screen of the laptop. “The Robin killed by Batman. I used to be the second Robin. And our source man is the present one. He knows the situation about Bruce… Batman. It was him to sell the orphans. He is a pedophile.”

…fucking God.

Joker’s voice revived in his mind.

“ _The boy doesn’t play our side, remember my words, Sionis… He is never bad guy, as we are_ ”

Then, Joker knew the truth. And Wilson, this motherfucker knew too. And Victor… Vic was not a person to claim everything to report, but…

Fucking Ring heating more and more, just the wrong time.

Fuck.

“You said,” the mask now seemed too tight to breathe, the headache worsened. And that all was not because of his own anger, but Jason. He was burying himself under dead weight of guilt. “…that you died after factory explosion. I don’t like people lying to me.”

“It was necessary. Slade asked me not to tell you, never… And… Sir, can I ask you…?”

Slade, of course. His sick obsession with Robins – both first and next one – grew into something really bad. So, Wilson was waiting in the shadow until Wayne did something bad. Joker was somewhere around just in case he could get some dirt on his old foe. And the boy, a bargaining chip, was convenient to raise and train, and use his skills against Batman. Convenient for both Wilson and clown.

Oh God.

Fuck this city.

Nothing and nobody normal here.

Orphans to save and one boy to use.

“Sir? Roman? I need to…”

It was hard to resist the pain. Sionis never experienced this level of hurt, the Ring never behaved that way. And he never suffered from other’s emotions. Never saw anyone can carry this load of feelings and not showing it, he didn’t see Jason letting out feelings like normal people need to do to stay sane. Like shouting, beating something… Oh, yeah. His singing and mercenary stuff when he can let everything out.

Well, obviously, it didn’t help Jason at all.

“Get out, Jason.”

“But…”

“I said: OUT!”

Sionis knew he would have a chance to have a nice talk to him, but right now it was necessary to get rid of some problems. Including alien rings and super-soldier idiocy. Jason was allowed to look at him with disappointment, with mix of wrath and insult. But that could be fixed later.

Not now.

Be a good boy, Jason Todd.

For the last time, and then everything would change.

“…and tell those idiots not to let anyone in until I’m out.”

The door barely shut when Roman rushed into the bathroom attached to the parlor. It was convenient to refresh if needed after hardworking, but now he needed just to lower the temperature of the Ring.

The mask off, Sionis threw it away, glad to get more fresh air. The sink is deep enough to wash face roughly. Gloves found their way to the floor, when Roman put one hand under stream of cold water, and took the phone of his pocket with another.

The Ring pulsated, the first minute under water it hissed steaming the water, and then it finally cooled down.

“You, piece of space shit,” Roman’s thumb froze just above the call button. “Forgot we had a deal? You do NOT show yourself or trying to activate, and I DO find the guy you wanted? Stop making me feel like an idiot who’s been tricked. I can easily throw you out like a trash and do whatever you want. I’m not afraid of dying, okay? Fuck, I thought you’re going to help me, and you’re doing just the opposite. Reacting to every second face I meet, even to this bastard Wilson. Remember, _they_ can feel your presence! And if _they_ succeed, your…our mission failed.”

Someone could call Roman insane if seen him talking to a ring.

But he knew, the jewelry heard him well and understood every word. And after seconds of pulsating migraine, the pain stood away. Vanished, like never existed. The ring finger not hurting anymore. But the reflection he got in the mirror left much to be desired.

Skin too pale, just because he never took his mask off. And eyes of red color. They were never red. Until the very bad episode that turned his life upside down.

“I hope, we can collaborate in a more friendly way. Next time if you want to tell me something can you please send rainbows and unicorns? Anything but pain, it’s not telling much, y’know….” He finally tapped the call button. Wilson was fast to answer. His breathing sounded heavy.

“Sionis? I’m on my way back, you can wait?”

“Well, how long did _you_ wanted to wait until telling me about Robin?” Roman sat on the floor, pressing back of the head to cold wall tile. “Jason told me everything. And I suppose you’ve already seen the news. What the fuck, Wilson?”

“Seen…” According to the sounds, Slade shifted and his voice became louder. “Kid has his mission. Don’t mess him, and you’ll have your benefit. That’s what you’re interested in, aren’t ya?”

“I’m never interested in lies, Wilson. And you forgot that. The critical part of our contract.”

“Look, Sionis…”

“You fucked up, Wilson. Your stupid mania, your sick interests… That’s what ruined our business relationship. And now I have more to demand.”

Slade sighed heavily.

“Whad’ya want?”

***

Last drone landed exactly on the roof of the next building. According to his calculations, no spare meter left or right. Jason was good at sniping. And all the coke, the dose for a huge company, worked for him by now. His senses sharpened, it seemed the time slowed down for him; he had so many opportunities to re-think and rearrange every point of the plan to make it not only acceptable, but working at thousand percent.

Bat-drones were done. Alfred would not warn Bruce about lost signal, instead he would give him false navigation. If Tim’s information was correct, the bastard was going to drive just under Jason’s feet in several minutes. He had plenty of time to repeat the strategy and count the time.

**YOUR BODY WILL HURT. IT’S THE MATTER OF TIME, CHILD.**

“I know.”

**...AND YOU DON’T HAVE MUCH.**

“I _know_.”

Jason took his helmet on. She was concerned today more, than on any other day, though She was aware of his plan.

He had his best heavy amour he could get. It would prevent Bruce’s hidden trump cards from traumatizing him until Jason able to get rid of annoying toys. The armor was not supposed to ease all the damage, but to give him more time. She agreed to heal his body during the battle, but She said it would be difficult. And also said that deadly dosage of stimulator would kill him pretty fast.

It meant he needed to work faster than physical death.

Fast and cool, as always.

The only difference from usual mission was his future end. One more end. He hoped it would be the last.

“I trust you.”

**I WILL ALWAYS BE BY YOUR SIDE, CHILD. TO YOUR LEFT HAND I PUT DETERMINATION. TO YOUR RIGHT HAND I PUT INEVITABILITY OF RETRIBUTION. FEAR NOT AND BRING YOUR WILL.**

The feeling of strength appeared in his body was in no comparison to what any drug could give him. It was not only the endless charge of energy and toughness, but… A determine sense of his limits been perished. He knew he could kill with his bare hands. He knew he was blessed by Death.

And with closed eyes he jumped from the eighteenth floor to touch down the top of batmobile. The timing was perfect.

Material of the car was too hard to penetrate it, even fallen from great height, but Jason managed to crush it. Glass windows exploded, sharp flakes glistened under street light. Inertia almost messed his balance, but Jason was ready for it: his legs fixed with smashed metal surface, that helped him in keeping steady position.

Driver was not frightened, but he lost control for long seconds when Jason was already taking his Jerichos and shooting the driver cabin in a pretty close distance.

Close enough to make Bruce make a sudden stop in attempt to throw him off, but Jason was faster. He was first to land on the earth and reach the driver’s door in order to tear it from the car. It was everything he did before Batman hit his chest with high-kick.

“I should have guessed it was your idea.” Bruce, standing out of the car, wiped blood spots from his chin and spit on the ground. “No rest for the wicked, Jason?”

Jason reloaded his guns, wasting not a second. He already detected kind of tiny spasms appearing in the area close to his heart. A bad sign. He thought he had more time.

“You once said, B., that I should never give up. And until you’re not in Arkham, I won’t.”

“We’ll see if it would be me there, ungrateful piece of scum.”

The mistake Jason hoped on, was made. And it was the most brilliant part of his plan.

Bruce tried to call his drones and failed. The time that took him to look at his arm was enough for Jason to approach in one leap and deliver the first blow. The gun handle hissed when he switched on electric mode designed for close combats. His punch, a nice left hook, cracked the helmet and threw Bruce for a couple of meters.

The ghost of Her behind his back, Jason knew that.

“I am your fucking doom, Bats.”

His sight blurred with green lights.

***

Victor was sure he put his cocaine to most distant pocket of the bag, but now it was gone. That just could not happen to him. Not today, when the squad was celebrating the end of a pretty expensive contract with Black Mask.

Guys wanted a nice chill out, and he wanted that too.

“Something’s happened?” Roman threw a quick glance to Vic’s bag full of guns, daggers, ammo and fresh shirts. “You look too concerned for today.”

“The coke… I know I’ve…”

The man of Sionis, wearing a mask, rushed into their lounge zone. There were just two of them: Victor and Roman, having a talk about future job and Vic’s family. He was not afraid of them, security he provided to the wife and daughter was damn good and even president would become jealous. At least, Victor never had any problems or reasons to worry.

“Sir! Batman noticed not far from here!” Guard breathing heavy. “And Hood… Ugh, they’re fighting…!”

It took long seconds for Victor to realize.

“FUCK! Tell Yuri: Todd’s bad, we need to take him from there! NOW!”

Vic was going to kill Jason with trainings and sparring, and whatever else if he was able to go out alive. Little bastard stole all of his cocaine! He knew he was not allowed to take any of stimulators, and he did that shit again! Jesus Christ!

“What’s wrong with Red Hood fighting Batman?” Roman’s voice stopped him for unacceptable amount of time. “You don’t believe in him?”

“He’s taken TEN GRAMS OF COCAINE! He’s gonna fucking die! His body’s not able to deal with stimulator shit anymore. And… TEN GRAMS, SIONIS! TEN FUCKING GRAMS!”

***

“You… Are… Not…” Jason coughed with blood right into the helmet, but it didn’t bother him. He was busy, breaking Batman’s left hand. “…Not… A Knight…”

The last limb of bastard broken with a crunch sound. Too easy, when protection torn and damaged. Inside the armor nothing but a vulnerable clam. Bruce was nobody without his parents’ money and name, without unknown guys creating ammo and stuff. He was nothing, just a filthy bastard, spoiled with power and privilege.

But when he was out of his environment, when he was out of the safe space he created for himself…

“You… You are nothing, Bruce Wayne.”

Arms tremored when lifted Bat’s body above the earth. Cracks and holes everywhere, and their blood.

Bullets.

Parts of crushed car and armor.

And so loud, miserable and lamentable, sound of spine breaking. The silence of the street exploded and then… only green light remained.

Waters embracing him.

Not floating, but sinking now.

***

Roman was standing outside and listening to the internal channel of his own squad. Very long there was only silence and white noise.

But then Victor’s voice cut through the static.

“Batman’s spine broken… Nightwing and a girl-bat noticed, they took his body…”

One new second of muteness.

Two.

Three.

“Hood’s dead…! Medics! Medics…!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the action scene was nice and dynamic (not just rough and chaotic)


	7. “Thy soul by fear assailed”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The further we come, the more Roman/Jason relationship will be shown, I promise :3
> 
> And it would be cool if you can leave a comment! It will be a great support and give me more power to write!

_“The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and pain.”_

Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

_No chance to breath, only bubbles exploded when he tried to exhale. Underwater was full of sounds, deafening, louder than his own thoughts. They wanted to escape, run away and never look back. Something dark, shapeless and burning in crucial flames of anger destroyed them. All of them._

_But still, they continued screaming, crying. They were suffering, pain never retreated, even after them being annihilated._

**_COME BACK TO ME, MY CHILD. YOUR TIME HAS NOT COME, AND I HOPE IT NEVER WILL._ **

_It was dark here, no lights, but distant flashes of green. Somewhere, he didn’t know if it was upwards or down, left or right side. So far away, barely recognizable. It was something from his previous…existence. Not wanted, desired to dismiss and avoid, but not to face it again._

_No._

_He would not come back._

_Whatever it was there, it was not for him anymore._

_He already fulfilled his destiny. And nothing he longed for anymore, and nobody to wait him._

_Jason full of determination to stay at the bottom of still waters. And let dark oblivion wash his memory, his spirit ready to dissolve. Melt into the stream of dead souls and become a little part of great river, the Endless Peace._

***

“What else should I know?”

Roman crossed his legs, ankle on knee, and looked straight into Slade’s eye. Wilson sighed, his fingers touched the sport bag full of clothes and some other stuff. Full of Jason’s stuff he was able to collect from their safehouse.

Sionis didn’t want to use the word ‘home’.

It was late at night when Slade bothered to remember about his promise. A part of his debt according to contract’s broken points. And now they were sitting in Roman’s apartment, not the parlor. Wilson in the armchair, still not ready to say goodbye to the boy he used.

It was so fucking convenient to cover his dark deal with Boy Wonder’s skills and liaisons in Wayne’s estate Jason managed to save. Seemed there were even more rotten apples in Bat’s lair than Roman could imagine. The butler, the new Robin… If believe to Todd, even Justice League abandoned their founder, and that meant pretty damn lot.

“Except his past psycho issues? Let me think… No stimulators. Means no coffee, no cola – even diet one, no drug stimulators if not medically required…”

An interesting case of Jason’s resurrection included his body strange to react when stimulants taken. After his death something went wrong, as Wilson said, with his brain chemistry. Certain substances now worked as a battery of power increasing, but with bad end. The more Jason took, the worse his body got.

“First, I was surprised he could beat me, and y’know, my serum gives me lots of advantages. But after that he slipped into coma for a week. And recently he did ten grams of coke…” Slade scratched his head. “It’ll be long rehabilitation. Why you want to take him? Vic – it’s obvious, he’s good. But Todd? The kid’s not stable time to time…”

Roman had no better answer than to shake his Ring hand. It was not the place to talk about some things even taking into account Slade was aware of his little secrets. Even his apartment not secure enough to bring several things in a voice. Especially when Roman was not actually sure about his decision. There always remained a chance to fail, and they both knew that.

“Oh. Well… Hope, it’s worth losses you’ll get.”

Sionis hoped too.

***

_Maelstroms hurled his body, leaving no opportunity to find calm waters and dive deeper, get away from Her voice calling to the surface. The more he struggled, the harder whirlpool tossed him, misleading. No orients to see. When he thought he was swimming away, he suddenly discovered the surface turned to be closer, than before. With eyes opened wide he could almost distinguish the old columns, the dark ceiling of the cave and Her skull._

_And when he turned away, he tried to shut his eyes as tight as possible and hope he would never reach the top. But the stream was merciless. Slowly, inch by inch, his body was approaching the surface, never matter how eager he was in desire to sink, to hide and not being found._

_Soon he would have no stamina to fight violent water, pushing him upwards._

_Spasms capture his chest and limbs. He was cramping and now no control he had, his body obeying something else’s will. Not his, not Hers. It was something greater than his human mind could apprehend. A new entity, more powerful than anything; its design, little sparks of it, blinked when Jason looked into Her eyes._

_It was not wanting him to be dead._

_Pain crushed his head._

**_YOU ARE FIGHTING WRONG DIRECTION, MY CHILD. LET ME HEAL YOUR AGONIZING SPIRIT._ **

_Again, he had nothing to oppose._

_Jason closed his eyes the very last time, listening to voices still screaming and dying. Those voices were awfully familiar, but no memories came to him. It was the feeling… He knew those people, knew them very well, for a long time. But kind of barrier, barely clear to look through, saved his exhausted soul from recognizing._

**_COME TO ME AND FORGET YOUR PAIN, CHILD._ **

_No choice._

_The surface kissed his lungs with a false deep inhale, though he didn’t need to breath here._

_And Her embrace, warm and lulling – a desired peace._

***

_‘Who is John Galt?’_

The very first line of the book crossed out, and hasty, rough handwriting asked instead: **‘Who is Jason Todd?’**

Living in century of technologies, Roman didn’t see anything charming in paper books. To his point of view, it was unnecessary trash, taking lots of space and collecting dust. This dust forced people to spare their time and energy washing and cleaning, and doing huge amount of work they caused themselves. You need to read? Use your device and go on, why not? It’s more convenient, more space saving and lots more reasons.

Most of all, he did not expect Jason to be a book lover. In his room he had few books, but those existing were… not suitable to Red Hood image. At least, to Roman’s view. During his last visit here, at the night of Todd’s birthday, Sionis had no opportunity to explore things Jason brought here. Ammo and books. And empty blanks of some street food. The staff had not bothered to clean here after Jason was brought to another apartment in the penthouse.

Taking into account his state… He better be not moved anywhere, not now.

‘Pride and Prejudice’ on the table.

“Seriously?” Roman took the book and opened a random page somewhere in the middle. It was a new edition, though looking pretty…used. Favorite one? According to the numerous handwritten notes – some of them made in more hurried manner, some not – Jason had returned to this book several times.

‘Pride and Prejudice’ and Jason Todd? If anyone told Sionis a week ago, he would laugh at it.

 _‘…But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever…’_ the book claimed, and this piece of text highlighted with canary colored marker. And there was a note made with a black pen.

**‘Is there anything to observe if you don’t trace any sign of human identity inside? Human is nothing but a set of frameworks. Or it is me who lost my personality after dying? Maybe, Jason Todd’s really dead, and I’m just a freaky corpse, trying to imitate him.’**

Another page and one more passage highlighted with yellow.

_‘They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects...’_

And lines, lots of Jason’s writings.

 **_‘_ ** **Don’t agree _._ There is no way people will choose a route not knowing where it ends. Not trying to predict. It never happens in real life. Feelings and thoughts, however strong they are, not able to outshine the vital necessity of studying the world around. It’s self-preservation instinct, no more, no less. But what remains when you don’t need to be preserved? Is it still a human or an animal, living with other primitive instincts? Like...our ancestors never took a cave if not sure there’s no lion wanting to eat them. And seems, I’m that defective species ready to jump into the darkness. The lion bothers me not. But other people, they do. _’_**

Description of Jason’s condition came to his mind; Harley gathered all her written notes after therapy. And this particular note resembled the diagnosis.

Personality disorder.

But the most interesting thing was the reason why Quinn did not consider Jason heard voices when she made her medical report. And Roman doubted she just forgot that. Something was wrong about it.

Jason Todd.

Who was Jason Todd, indeed?

With a sigh, Sionis took a pen.

***

_Rhythmic swinging, a warm touching. Everything sweet and silent, and no sharp noise or flash broke the idyllic dream he was almost in. A dream of starry night and cool wind, dream of freedom and endless field of dark emerald grass, tickling his cheeks. That dream, where he reached someone’s hand and felt never abandoned._

_Somehow, Her voice appeared to turn into delightful symphony. Though it was an old and ordinary lullaby, still, She could sing pretty well, changing the timbre into familiar one… Mother-sounding, caring and tender._

**_TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAR…_ **

_In spite of being off his physical body, Jason felt his wounds heal over faster and faster. But he was not ready to come back yet. And while She allowed to stay here, he would use that opportunity. Anything better that opening eyes in the world he hated._

**_…LIKE A DIAMOND IN THE SKY…_ **

_She had been singing for what seemed to be eternity, and Jason didn’t feel any tiredness. Instead, with lips parted and voice tuned, he was echoing Her softly._

_“…When the blazing sun is gone…”_

_Her arms holding him tightly, and Her laps where he curled up were not bones at all. Maybe, it was kind of Her magic or something made for Jason in order not to feel odd. Maybe, those entities like Death were too complicated to determine them like a human being._

_Lulled with Her voice, he surrendered to his favorite dream again. Stars and bright night sky. Grass of dark emerald color and with obsidian shades waving above his face. He, lying on his back, feeling at home. Welcomed by fragrant air and someone invisible, holding his hand._

_The world where he never died._

_And knew nothing of betrayal._

***

Slade watched the first waking with heart almost stopped. Jason looked too bad to open his eyes now, but if he didn’t, nurse could give him extra dose of medication. And body too stressed out to accept more drugs without any effect.

With shivering and hesitation, eyes opened and narrowed at once. Even dim, semi-dark room was too bright for him. And that was the moment Slade almost forgot about that motherfucker Sionis. He dared to accuse him in using Jason! Using in so-called dirty plans! Bullshit!

“Hey, kid.”

It was their last meet as partners.

“H-hey…”

Voice breaking and cracking, definitely not sounding as voice of a healthy guy. But he was alive, and that appeared to be pretty good news. As the blanket shifted, Slade noticed Jason’s desire to move and he tried to prevent that. It was forbidden to try any activity, especially when firstly awaken after prolonged coma. System not functioning fully yet, and bothering it with any motions was not preferably.

“Don’t even think to move,” Slade dislocated his chair closer to the bed. “Actually I have to punish you. Lucky you are to be in untouchable position.” He took a long heavy glance upon sunken eyes, red and sore, and watery now, when irritated with the air.

‘J’ scar now more standing out. Fucking reminder.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve taken you with me.” With his hand held out, Slade touched messy hair. The grey strand never lost in the black. “Should’ve looked after you and failed. As it is… Remember? You’re better than me ‘cause having both eyes.”

Helping Jason with drinking – it was just a glass of water with a straw – Slade found himself too disappointed than he assumed. It was a farewell, and he was doing shitty stuff like apologizing and giving kid a drink.

What had he turned into?

Vic was right at the moment when knew about taking Jason after his death. Slade became too soft-hearted. Old and foolish.

“At least… I was cool…” Jason coughed and refused to take more water. Not enough energy to talk long, his eyes already reflecting a strong need in sleep. “I beat him, man… I’m cool…”

The smile stretched Slade’s lips against his will. Oh, Jason…

“You’re cool, kid. Toughest guy I’ve ever known. Now, have a rest. Or someone will take your place.”

He left the room as well as a newspaper on the bedside table.

Red Hood entered Gotham history. First man to break Batman with bare hands.

***

_“Who are they?”_

_Screams and moans of pain now reflected from the dark, narrow hall. It never existed here, but appeared some time ago. She made no comments about it, and Jason found no interest to explore. Mainly because voices seemed to be louder there, in the darkness._

**_YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW YET, CHILD._ **

_“’Scuse me?” Turning to Her retriggered light vertigo, but this time Jason managed to stay on his feet. “I’m here for hell knows how long, you taking my memory every time, and I still don’t deserve anything about FUCKING MYSELF? Should I remind you: it was whole your own idea to not let me die! I never asked for this, okay? What’s the point making me forget if you give me nothing to know?”_

_If there existed any chance Death could sigh without having lungs and throat and…whatever more needed to breathe, She could have sighed right now. Heavily and, as Jason imagined, with irritation. Well, if She could have any chance to feel…_

**_WHAT DO YOU WANT TO KNOW FIRST? I DON’T PROMISE ANSWERING EVERY SINGLE QUESTION, BUT I’LL TRY TO SATISFY YOUR CURIOSITY._ **

_Wow, that simple? The clue was just to be more solid and confident and demand more? No, no way She gave up that easy. However, he would not remember this in real world. But knowing something was better than staying in ignorance with no chance to explain shitty things happening to him._

_What he wanted to know first? He could ask anything? Like, literally…?_

**_YES, CHILD. YOU CAN ASK WHATEVER COMES TO YOUR HEAD._ **

_“Please, don’t stop pretending you can’t read my thoughts. It’s freaking me out.”_

_No answer, She only shifted closer to a pillar, cracked and having lots of scratches (who the hell in the world would scratch a stone?). If not knownig Her as well as Jason already did, it could look like She was hiding from his gaze._

_In fact, She was just playing with Jason’s perception._

_Well… What to ask first?_

_Lots of things came to him, hard to choose at once. Priority not clear, no hint to somehow sort all those ideas striking him._

_“Why… Why I don’t hear you when Sionis around? I noticed, you never speak or remind about yourself… WHAT THE HECK?!”_

_With a wave of a hand clothed in wide sleeve, She created a human image. A tall figure, as tall as adult Jason in real world was. His age was still fifteen years here, in false Lazarus Pit. And the created human was broad shouldered, well-built. Skin of light bonze color, dark suit, arms crossed over chest. Face with sharp lines, handsome. And eyes…_

_“It… is… Is it him? Before the mask incident?” Hesitating to come closer, Jason walked around, examining. “Is it Sionis?”_

**_IT IS._ **

_…eyes where flames danced, more alive than the whole transparent illusion. Red eyes of furious color. Contrasting so strong against green light of the Pit. His face pretty symmetric. Black hair combed back, but several rebellious strands touched his forehead._

_His face had no common with those guesses Jason had when saw Roman’s profile. Slade’s archives contained no picture of Sionis before his face damaged. And that meant there existed no picture of Sionis’ face at all._

**_THIS PERSON IS THE GREATEST PART OF YOUR PAINFUL FUTURE, CHILD._ **

_Shifted again, She moved behind Jason’s back, letting him approach Roman’s image. If not concentrated, it was possible to ignore distant corner of the cavern seen through the figure. Sionis looked straight, of course, seeing nothing. Standing on the line of his glance, Jason felt Roman was looking through him._

_Feeling not pleasant at all._

**_YOU DON’T HEAR MY VOICE WHEN CLOSE TO HIM, THAT IS TRUE. THAT IS HOW IT SHOULD BE, FOR HE BRINGS MY WILL. MY HARBINGER, MY HERALD._ **

_With eyes opened wide, Jason froze. Uncontrolled shivering embraced his body._

_“He…what...?”_

**_AND THOSE VOICES… OH, CHILD. IT IS YOU, DYING. IN EVERY SINGLE UNIVERSE JASON TODD IS BEING KILLED, AND YOU HEAR YOURSELF._ **

_Feeling of blood frozen in veins slammed him, like a heavy truck on its full speed._

***

Several moments of awakening merged in one. Nothing spectacular or distinguishing to remember: open eyes, let nurses change the bandage, drink water and medicines. Couple of times he was allowed to drink not only water, but also something resembling chicken broth. No face he remembered, though the nurses never changed.

Till the very last and longest return to conscious, he had no idea of how bad his body ached.

“They say, you’ve got enough painkillers, next dose will cause addiction. And you healed pretty fast for someone in coma.” Victor took Jason’s empty plate and sit back to his chair. “And finally, I can bring you the news I’m having for too long. Sure, you won’t like it.”

Vic had been sitting with him long enough to see few shameful episodes of nurses washing Jason. He was still too weak to move and visit bathroom. And also sitting long enough to not let Jason die again, from being bored this time.

“Wow, sounds exciting…” shifted to put more pillows under his back, Jason tried to find more comfortable position. Nevertheless, lower back hurt excruciatingly, and nothing to do with it. “…what’s now? They cut my kidneys out and already taken across Mexican border?”

No smile, not even a hint of cheer. Jason knew his sense of humor was specific and all, but…

“Wilson dismissed us.”

“The whole squad?”

“No. Only you and I. We both are dismissed, and now Sionis is our constant employer. Speaking frankly, we weren’t working for Wilson and he couldn’t fire anyone, but… Things already happened, Hood. Your clothes and stuff relocated, everything’s here. And Slade’s left his previous safehouse, so you have no need to bother visiting him.”

Things…already happened?

Jason recalled Slade came to see him. They talked not much, Jason was too weak to stay awaken for longer than 15 minutes.

Even with his head pounding, memory didn’t fail him. Slade said nothing about dismissing. Maybe, it all happened during intervals of being unconscious? Or…

“Slade was here,” Jason said cautiously. “He didn’t tell me anything. How long…?”

“You’ve been out for more than three months, Hood. It’s autumn already. Slade was here in July. And now it’s the last decade of September.” Victor tightened his lips. Glance to floor, like he was afraid looking straight to Jason. “He didn’t want to speak about this stuff with you. He thought it’d be better… Y’know. Wilson’s always that foolish old crap.”

Of course.

Jason’s heard those ‘it’s not about you, it’s about him’ stuff several times.

And every time was like the first one.

Bitter and burning.

***

_“I’M FUCKING DYING IN ANY OTHER UNIVERSE! AND YOU WANTED TO HIDE THIS INFORMATION?! TILL WHAT MOMENT?!”_

_Roman’s illusion swayed a bit, returning to calm state slowly. Ripples walking along his semi-transparent figure; his gaze straight and determined. A bit gloomy. Maybe, it was because of Jason’s mood when he finally appeared in the false Pit._

_Shouting and trying to throw rocks and parts of columns that were chopped off, that was his state. The blood freezing feeling didn’t plan to disappear. The whole news was a huge knock out. He needed to lower the degree of his fear. A power able, not able, WANTING him to be dead and hunting him down across universes! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST._

_Beating Batman was nothing._

_Literally, nothing compared to this threat._

_Not hard to believe parallel universes existed when he himself was facing DEATH IN THE FLESH (almost). He knew a Kryptonian, an alien came from another planet having God’s powers, and he knew Diana, the immortal and also Godlike princess of magically concealed island. Meta people were not confusing him, and speedsters able to have a holyday trip to the past as well didn’t surprise him anymore._

_But the fact of his own death heard from different, maybe alternate, universes?_

_The fact of someone had intention to kill every Jason Todd found in any fucking…_

_…knees trembling, new wave of spasms seized his throat and chest._

_Uncontrollable tide of new panic attack._

_How to cope with it?_

_How to cope with…_

**_YOU ARE NOT READY TO USE THIS INFORMATION, CHILD._ **

_Her voice, sweet as always. Like She cared, really cared of him! Why? What was the profit to DEATH to save one street orphan? Like… She was Death! Didn’t that mean She needed people to die?_

_“And how I’m supposed to use that?!” Jason fell on his knees, blinded with pain, when new violent flow of screams burst his head, tearing his mind apart._

_It was that torture again when he couldn’t even catch the moment She took him on Her laps and put into a dream with a silent lullaby._

***

Brushing teeth now caused no strong pain. The opportunity of washing himself was bright and nice only first couple of days. When his new apartment got more space with all those medical drips and bandages, and vials taken away, the air seemed to become even cleaner.

Jason chose a long oversized T-shirt and tight sweatpants designed for running to put on. Wanted to hide his exhausted, drained body. And didn’t want to bother with buttons and zippers his other pants had. Fingers not fully controlled, he tried to squeeze his toothbrush in the bathroom, and almost dropped it.

While examining his body, he found lots of bruises, dark blemishes. And the chest… His upper part of the torso covered with burnings typical for defibrillator. Victor told that his heart had stopped for eight times. Medics needed to use high voltage. The lower one was too weak for a person overdosed with cocaine.

Skin rough, and dark crimson prints resembling rectangles were prominent. Jason thought, he would heal enough during his coma and spending time in the Pit…

A sudden relic of almost forgotten feeling chased him in the hallway.

Hard to concentrate, his mouth went too dry to call anyone.

Even not identified the state, Jason somehow knew he had to hurry up. Voices were retuning, their distant echoes already heard. It was a march of pain, unavoidable and terrifying. He needed… To see Roman.

Yes, Roman.

Everything went silent when he was around.

He needed to speak to him.

His parlor! It’s pretty close, Jason was lucky to find himself in the penthouse. Just few meters, and the door was open! His chance!

**YOU ARE GOING WRONG DIRECTION, CHILD.**

“Shut up…”

Her voice brought an avalanche of unbearably stinging loud screams. Jason entered the parlor and almost felt relief, when saw a white jacket on the chair turned with its back to him.

“Roman, please…” But voices didn’t go away.

**IT’S WRONG PLACE.**

“Roman, I need… Please, I need you…”

The last thing he felt, except overwhelming stream of agony, was softness of the fabric.

Chair was empty.


	8. “Determine what I ask”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yeah, finally this chapter is finished ^^  
> Lots of thanks to Mary_Madison_Jude, because without them this text would never turn into something good **
> 
> Hope you like this one.  
> And also, every comment is a great support :3

_“He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”_

Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

Noises always bothered him and didn’t let to concentrate on the papers. Roman had to wait till Jason gave him minutes of silence, then try to finish as many passages of the contract as possible. But then Todd was shifting on the leather sofa again, it creaked and squeaked, and was getting on Roman’s nerves like a boy with a burning match played near an open gasoline tank.

Sooner or later, there must be an explosion.

“Can you just freeze and stop distracting me?”

One more ‘squeak!’ in that high-pitch tone – and Jason simply stared at him helplessly.

The look he gave was comparable to that of a pitiful puppy.

Oh, God.

Sionis regretted that he allowed Jason to stay in his cabinet. He had half a mind to ask the medics to get him away. The farther – the better. That’s not to say Jason irritated him or that he caused him a strong negative attitude. Work came first, that was Roman’s main rule. All pleasures and personal interests came after the work was done.

And yes, he was irritated with the fate of his white jacket. Favorite one and the most comfortable to wear during summer and warm autumn in a humid office.

Now with a huge blood stain Jason somehow managed to leave when Roman found Todd lying on the floor almost under his table. With a pale face, unhealthy white, and nose bleeding. Bleeding on the jacket Roman left hanging on the back of the chair.

Medics were quick with an IV and whatever was necessary to help Jason.

With a cotton ball in his nostril and bruises left after the injections, Todd looked even worse than when he was in a coma. Roman really tempted to dedicate his time not to documents and schemas, but with job done lousy there appeared risks of losses. And Sionis didn’t like losses.

“Then get another sofa...” Jason finally said. In fact, ‘said’ was an inappropriate word to describe his manner of speaking. Mostly, he was spitting words out, harshly and rude. “The one…not distracting you… Ugh…”

One more ‘squeak’, and Roman would be more confident in his desire to throw the sofa out of the window.

“I need to talk to you.”

Again. Jason tried to start this – whatever it was – again.

“How many times should I remind you: I am working, Jason. I need to work; you know what’s that? When the one gets to his…”

The Ring reacted seconds before Jason interrupted.

“Remember you helped me?” Ring finger didn’t burn this time, but warmed a bit up. “…the moment of ‘distraction’? I need that again, and more. I need to be close to you… As often as it’s possible.”

Roman narrowed his eyes, though Jason could not see that because of the mask. Todd’s been too weak to stand…anything similar to the thing Sionis provided him that particular evening. And he said ‘need’? To be closer?

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Obviously, his attempts to get to work failed. Sionis stood up and stretched. Rolled his sleeves up and reached the window wall, semi-covered with curtains. September this year was ending in beautifully golden colors. Rare event in Gotham, usually it was not covered with leaves, not embraced with the sun's endlessly long hands-beams. Gotham’s routine autumn was mopping with rains, cold and unfriendly. Depressing. As most of the year was. “That intimate moment we had was truly interesting, I must admit. But what do you mean by ‘to be close’? Being physically close? Is it a modern euphemism to sex?”

If he could, Jason would blush, Roman was sure.

But the only thing he did was shifting again, pressing his fingers to the dark blue spot, injection mark on the elbow crease.

“The reason I needed the… _that_ moment is…” he bit his lower lip, frowning and taking his glance away from Roman. Jason’s face reflected hesitation and... disappointment? “I’m more stable when I’m close to you. Dunno how it works, but… You make me feel confident and…”

Holy universe, Sionis could not stand that.

It sounded too bad for him, and his work mood was almost killed by Jason’s sudden confession.

Jason really needed to recover. Probably, something else went wrong with his brain after the new coma, and it wouldn’t be surprising if that was the case.

“You know what, Jason? Leave it to next time, alright? Gather your thoughts together, relax and recover, and do whatever you find necessary to do. And then, when I have some spare time, we’ll talk. Well…” Roman took his papers from the table and went towards the exit. At least, he had his apartment to continue working. And there he could finally take off his mask. “…see you soon.”

Only a few millimeters left for the door to shut when he heard Jason’s muffled shout.

“Wait! Don’t leave me with them…!”

Roman stopped for a moment, realizing.

‘They’?

***

Taking a shower was a better idea.

Wash off old thoughts, examine his damaged body again and finally imagine his next course of action. Victor strongly recommended avoiding the gym and any serious activities. His bones were broken in many places, and after the coma his body still couldn’t get enough vitamins and minerals and store them properly. The coma itself was not anything new to Jason, but the period he was _there_ … It was too long.

Already in bed, he found himself embraced with a strong feeling of confidence that She finally told him something about the shit happening to him.

Again, Jason had no memories left after meeting Her, but his intuition – or any other sense – told him, he was close to the truth. It was already hidden in his mind; the only anxiety he had was the truth covered with oblivion. There was no power to fight it or destroy it, but there also was no way Jason would give up his attempts to reach his goal.

But for tonight he had nothing to power him up, to boost his exhausted and recovering body and mind. He wasn’t even allowed to drink strong black tea, and how was he supposed to live without anything tasty to drink?

He really needed several days dedicated to rehabilitation. Healthy food, no stress and all that stuff provided to make him feel better. Not what he wanted, but necessary actions.

“What the…”

And his books, of course. He finally had his time for reading, and that was something positive.

But stranger’s handwritten note close to his on the first pages of the ‘Atlas Shrugged’ confused him. Someone took his books, read his own notes and even left his answers. It didn’t take too much time to guess it was Roman, and that was what startled him the most. Sionis saw Jason’s way of thinking, opened not just a book, but touched his therapy, his chaos of personal fears.

Those ideas didn’t belong to Red Hood, and Jason was confident in putting a line between the mercenary identity, Jason Todd – the boy who died, and…someone, still alive and responding to the dead boy’s name. Those lines divided his life and his attitude to the world.

Red Hood _never_ read.

Jason Todd, the _real_ one, was dead.

And _fake_ Jason was not stable at all. He heard voices, he talked to Death, he didn’t know if wanted to live or die. Full of suicidal thoughts and intentions; he trusted Hood identity, but not himself. Or anyone else for that matter.

And now he saw someone – Black Mask – intruded into his vulnerable inner chaos.

 **‘Go to page…’** – the narrow, sharp writing of Roman said. It related to his, Jason’s, question **‘Who is Jason Todd?’**.

So, he opened the mentioned page to see a couple of text lines, a reply of a fireman to the eternal book’s question. The words Roman underlined were:

_‘“He means,” said the fireman, “don't ask questions nobody can answer.”’_

And more was written:

**‘…nobody, except you can answer that question. Why ask when you can start creating according to your own preferences? I don’t think you read this book attentively. In other words, a smart guy like you would never have those hesitations and questions. It looks like you’re afraid of being yourself, of being a human with unique inner world. You’re not an enemy to yourself. Enemies are never inside.’**

Every word is now ingrained inside his mind. Stuck and seen in front of him even with his eyes shut. Roman visited his previous room. Visited his dark corners, where fears prevailed, and left his burning trail along the way. A mark, recognizable, just like his mask was.

Roman, Roman, _Roman_.

It was always so much about him.

Was it right to come so close? Try to open true intentions? Sionis seemed not to be a person highly interested in any kind of relationship but business. Well, he did ‘help’ Jason that time. And he looked concerned about Jason. But the moment he discovered Todd used to be Robin? He was angry, yes. Because of it? Or something just happened at once, and it was just a coincidence? It could be true. In this case, Sionis would never come to his apartment and leave comments.

…thus, full of hopes and hesitations, Jason didn’t notice how he slipped into a dream.

First it was like all his previous dreams in Lazarus Pit. But suddenly he found himself in a dark, long hall. There were no hints of light around, no sounds to be heard and nothing to be seen. Only a tiny distant fire, full of gold and ruby red flames waved to him. It was warm and friendly. Jason felt it was calling for him, was waiting for only him.

Nothing under his bare feet. Just black void, it felt soft, though. Hard to compare with anything familiar.

The more he approached, the more flashes of fire resembled familiar human figure.

Ruby red sparks now shifted not chaotically, and in fact, they never did. But glistened in the dark; they were like the burning surface of a red star. Despite the strong bright halo, Jason looked into those eyes with no soreness. This light – more, than ever – a contrast to the dead Pit lights of cold green.

He wanted to say a lot to Sionis even if it was just to his image, an illusion She created in order to calm him down.

Speak about all those hopes he dared to have, ideas of something better than being a suffering man with guns and few moral points. It was painful to see a fixed glance of Roman and realize he would never hear any word Jason would tell him, and all those words, each syllable were vitally important, _essential_.

But, at least, now She was nowhere.

An opportunity for him.

To have something personal, at least in the dream of darkness and a piece of light.

“You…” Jason touched Sionis’ face, cupped his cheeks, enchanted with the soft embrace of golden light shining upon his hands. Though it was a dream, he needed something, a point to return, to keep in mind. Something belonging to him, a secret, sweet and intimate. His anchor. “Wish you could never fade away.”

His desperate whisper ended with a brief sigh; and then his lips met soft, warm light.

***

“Please… Don’t…”

Again, as Roman tried to find more comfortable position, he was immediately punished by a sleepy murmur. This sound was hot, it touched his collarbone as Jason’s lips almost pressed to it. With his legs on Sionis’ laps and his head on Roman’s shoulder – this is how Jason met the midnight. Sleeping, talking quietly when felt any tiny movements. But didn’t wake up.

And… That was better. For both of them.

Roman didn’t know what to do, but he definitely didn’t want to get rid of Jason, in spite of… He had no idea what it was.

Sionis, without his mask, had almost been ready to take a shower and go to bed. He had just approached the door in order to shut it when Jason had suddenly opened it and kissed him, begging him not to fade away. His skin had been burning feverishly. Heating and glistening with sweat, but everything ended as quickly as it started, leaving no opportunity for Roman to understand what happened.

Jason had just passed out, hanging on Roman with all his weight. And even after dark events, Jason Todd was not as light as a feather. So, Roman had been standing there, in the doors of his own apartment, for a while, holding Jason’s unconscious body, and paralyzed with one thought.

Jason saw his face and even touched it.

He found some bravery to kiss him.

And everything happened too fast, like lightning.

“Please…”

Now Roman had his mask on. Sitting on the sofa, having no opportunity to leave Jason sleeping alone. Todd was dressed like he had taken shower before visiting Sionis: his body wrapped in a huge white bathrobe, naked under it. His hair smelled clean and mint, even thick layer of leather mask could not hide it. Roman liked the scent of something clean, and Jason in his hands…

The Ring warmed up.

Again and again, more often now. It was pulsating, demanding to be noticed.

“You think it’s the right time now?” Roman spoke in a whisper barely heard even to himself. At least, the Ring was listening, and that was enough. “We need to be sure this is…” He took a pause while Jason tightened his grip on Roman’s shirt. “…sure, that he is the right person. Don’t mess us up, alright?”

The Ring went cold, understanding as always, and now it was even more sensible to Roman’s mood. They really still had some time to be sure. Even though it was already autumn, they needed to wait till the end of the winter. Only then they would get evidences… Or not.

If he was being honest with himself, Roman wasn’t sure at all if he wanted Jason to be the person they were looking for. Jason Todd was nice, Jason Todd was pretty and adorable, and problematic a bit with his habit to die painfully and return…

Every time Jason returned – despite the fact Roman saw only one resurrection, he had Wilson’s word – he had changed. Like he left something on the _other side_ , and that made him incomplete. Sionis suggested, that was a strong reason for Jason to find himself broken and out of place.

And if that was true…

Jason would face a truly great challenge.

And Roman was afraid: he wasn’t sure if he was able to protect or minimize excruciating consequences.

“Please, don’t go…” Jason shifted again and almost opened his eyes, but Roman was fast to sooth him.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I…need you…”

He already knew that. Unfortunately.

***

“I still doubt Victor will ignore that.”

Jason breathed in magnificent scent of fresh hot hamburger with his eyes closed. Finally, he got a chance to slip away from Vic’s mentoring, which close resembled grumbling of a strict old man. Finally!

And more, he had to meet Clark.

After the last coma they didn’t have time to talk about League and further actions.

Now both of them found comfortable position on the old clock tower, where gargoyles were fleering above West Gotham. Clark brought him a hamburger ( _wow, is it Super Delivery?_ ) and French fries, and a pint carton glass of strong black sweet tea. If Victor knew, he would probably kill Jason again just in order to make him respect the diet.

But, of course, Victor wouldn’t know in a thousand years.

“Nah…” Firstly, Jason sipped the tea, and barely could resist not to moan. It was godlike, especially compared to the stuff he needed to drink every day mixed with his medicine. “Vic’s still not my mom to make me turn my pockets out. So, what about the League? I’m sorry I couldn’t ask if my…employer can be loyal to your missions. I’m going to fix it, y’know. So don’t worry. Suppose, you can wait a bit?”

Clark nodded, still frowned and looking down, at the distant street traffic, full of car flashes.

“Everything could be easier, if Richard…”

Their plan was to defeat Bruce and before that – to convince Grayson that Wayne had contracts with human traffickers. But both Clark’s article and Jason’s death influenced Dick another way, he chose the position of Gotham Knight’s lawyer, and the League had nothing to do with it. They could not escape Brother Eye, an all-seeing artificial intelligence orbiting the Earth. Bruce created Brother Eye under the pretext of looking after space environment and preventing distant space intruders. But in fact, the Brother Eye is also used for spying purposes. Spying every metahuman, the League, villains, and just every single citizen of Gotham, Metropolis and even Blüdhaven before it had been destroyed.

Some people, aware of Batman’s identity and his manias to monitor everything had to invent devices able to interfere with the Eye’s channel. Thus, Jason Todd was hidden by Deathstroke after his first death, and later – he was protected by Joker and Black Mask.

But members of League were not just mere people. They can’t use those devices and not cause Gotham citizens’ outrage. Though Batman was not in favor now, people still wanted to see if inhuman heroes could still save them from dangers and not bring them new disasters.

Well… Mostly, they were afraid of Superman. He had destroyed too much in both cities, and people could not just forget that.

Even if they didn’t trust Batman, they trusted their own eyes and feelings.

And when innocent got hurt because of so-called saviors, people would judge. It didn’t matter if it was for the greater good. People didn’t believe that an alien could understand human attitude and emotions, and share core values.

“‘If Richard’ what?”

Everything was so fast.

Jason didn’t get a chance to take a very first bite of his burger, as a bright green flash stroke Clark right into his back and threw him down from the roof.

Even with his chest still aching, Jason managed to jump away from next strike, intended to get him. His food found its way down, just after Superman fell.

It was the kryptonite.

Grayson shot his super-boyfriend with fucking kryptonite!

“You totally lost you mind, _Dick_.” Jason narrowed his eyes, pressing a hand to chest and rubbing it in order to loosen the burning pain caused by sudden movements. Defibrillation marks were extremely slow to heal, and it bothered him and didn’t let to make some tactically profitable movements. “Came to say you’re sorry? Y’know, you don’t have to shoot the one who fucks you. Clark won’t forgive you this time.”

“Shut up!”

His escrima sticks sounded sharp and powerful, signaling that the high voltage was on.

It meant, the guy was pretty sure to kick someone’s ass.

“Oh my goodness gracious! Dick, you really think you can beat me even after my recent death? No way, man. You better think about how long you’ll be apologizing to Clark, kneeling in front of him with your mouth full of…”

“SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.”

Dick was in the bad mood. Very bad mood. The only thing Jason could recall from Nightwing’s skills was his ability to use acrobatic tricks during combat. Those moves looked impressive and gracious sometimes. For a mortal, not poisoned by anything radioactive or any kind of super-serum, Richard fought good. Not good enough for Deathstroke’s apprentice, of course. And, of course, not for Jason, who gained more and more inhuman reactions after every appointment with Death.

“How dare you try to kill Bruce?!” Nightwing’s first blows were weak, too obvious, his emotions told a lot about his further movements. Dick was trying to force Jason into a corner, but he shifted a lot, drawing circles, leaving no chance for Grayson to approach or impose on his tempo. “Seems Joker did his job well when brainwashed you!”

“And you think your brain’s not washed by B.? How confident of you, Dickie.” Jason saw several mistakes Richard made when he tried to provide for his defense.

There were lots of chances to kill him and even more to break him down.

But he knew that Clark was too attached to Grayson. That meant Jason needed to knock him out without hurting him too much.

“Don’t you dare to talk to me in that tone, Jason Peter Todd! You betrayed your family!”

The problem was Dick truly believed in Bruce and he could not believe that a person who replaced his parents could be nothing better than those villains he was haunting down every night. Those, who killed his real family.

Dick was just too blinded with love and gratitude for Bruce.

It was understandable.

…but there was no better teacher than pain.

After Jason made his signature choke hold and passed Dick’s body to Clark, who already steadied himself after the shot, he was left alone. On the tower roof, surrounded by grinning gargoyles and deafened by late heavy rain.

His red helmet close to his feet, cracked.

Dick’s words in his head, echoing and echoing, competing with the rain noise.

_“No rest for the wicked, Jason.”_

***

He left a big mess on his way to this particular door. His footprints were a mixture of dirt and water, his biker jacket glistening with water. His hair, face and his underclothes – everything so wet and sticky, and heavy, like an unwanted armor.

When he knocked, the wood of the door was covered with wet spots.

Jason didn’t look straight – just watched his step – examining his boots. Fingers could barely hold his slippery helmet.

Roman was fast to open. He asked nothing, but let Jason in.

“Take a shower.”

And he did. Used any towel, as he was allowed to. And white bathrobe – there were only white bathrobes in the penthouse, it somehow reminded him about hotels he used to live in with Wilson. It seemed to be so many lives ago.

In the Roman’s apartment he found little lighting, it was pretty dull. And the window wall, so similar to the parlor’s one, distinguished amidst the whole darkness. It was not a window for taking a view, but also to examine his own reflection, and to see Sionis, sitting on the armrest of the sofa. A window to have his glaze hidden, mixed with sparks of Gotham far away from here.

It was his medium to summon a feeling of peace and forget the part where he was uncertain in his wishes.

Here it felt safe and calm.

And…

“I assume you have something to ask. What do you want, Jason?”

…and he had Roman. A person knowing him so well. Was it just a logical conclusion after he read Jason’s book notes? Well, now it didn’t matter.

“You think I want something?” he was so tired.

Tired of everything. He didn’t even want to analyze every single thing and waste energy thinking about it. He just didn’t have enough power or will to do that.

“Well, you’re here. _We_ are here. Then, there’s definitely something that you want. What is it? Tell me and I shall give it to you.”

‘Enemies are never inside’, that’s what Roman told him, although – not verbally. And Jason had been his own enemy for so long. He bound and restricted himself, but he didn’t want to realize he was the free one. Free to decide and free to act. He was afraid of being somebody because of the trauma, but also he was afraid to admit there was no point into being frightened.

The thing that must happen, would happen.

And if someday his new death would be the last one, well… He didn’t want to be sorry not only for the boy who was dead, but also for opportunities he didn’t use.

He must do it.

For Jason who found his place in the grave, for Red Hood, for himself.

“I want everything.” In the window’s mirror he caught Roman’s glance, concerned and flashing with red sparks. It looked so familiar… “Everything you can give me, I want it.”

When his robe fell down, he wasn’t cold.


	9. “The cruel wind does move”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: the chapter contains description of cutting, not detailed.

_ He loves to sit and hear me sing, _

_ Then, laughing, sports and plays with me - _

_ Then stretches out my golden wing, _

_ And mocks my loss of liberty. _

William Blake, ‘The Song’

_ ‘I am rebirth; I am the tear in the ties. Wake me when I die again…’ _

Roman took his eyes off Jason sitting on the stage and almost pressing his lips to the micro. The evening seemed to be very long. And yet, he didn’t determine it even now, if this night was more irritating than strange.

“And, as I say, our sharp-nosed friend’s not gonna follow any contract now.” In Joker’s world viewing, it was a slight reminder of their meeting today.

But in fact, all of them – the head of the Whisper Gang, Scarecrow and his assistants, Black Mask accompanied by Victor and Joker himself – were beating around the bush. Senselessly. And most of the mob company thought it was a waste of their time.

After everyone knew Red Hood had broken Bat’s spine, lots of smugglers came out to ‘surface’. The city was not controlled now by Batman; Bruce Wayne left his authority to his trusted people, and they were not even a half as good as him in leading the business. Of course, shadow dealers understood that the golden age wouldn’t last forever, especially taking into account Nightwing and other members of the so-called Batfamily were still patrolling the city.

But who would be afraid of a bunch of kids, when their dad is almost dead for a while?

“Penguin went too far. That’s true.” Dr. Crane had been examining the sharpness of his sickle for about three hours. “But what can we do? If we’re the first to make a blow, then the most part of Gotham will chase us.  _ All  _ of us.”

Victor nodded.

“But don’t forget: he won’t sit in peace. He  _ will  _ come, and if not us, he will strike first. At least, we have to be ready.”

Good, good. Victor was able to speak instead of Roman, while Sionis himself could barely think about bats and mob wars. He tried not to miss any glance Jason threw. Again, it was something there, on the first floor, where people were having their secrets and meals on the tables. Where Jason Todd was giving his voice to everyone.

_ ‘Reap the eternal from the mind, take the memory. Cast all the suffering aside to enlighten me…’ _

Today he didn’t use those melancholic songs, and that was pleading Roman’s ears. Because of more aggressive, more loud music he could make himself think not only about work, but also… About something that happened and wasn’t going to be understandable. Yet.

“Whad’ya think, Mask?” Joker flopped down too close to Roman, grabbing his shoulder with the hand free from the knife. Dirty one, stained with both blood and rust. “Wanna join a risky campaign against Bats and his shadow friends?”

Of course, he didn’t have other opportunities.

What did they say? United we stand, divided we fall.

Even though another time all of them were ready to drain each other’s blood. Well, except Joker. Since Jason was working for Sionis, the clown became more than loyal to Black Mask. And – strangely – too friendly to him. Giving resources, information. For example, when Jason was in the last coma, Joker made Harley make copies of her therapy notes in order for Roman to examine Jason’s state.

That was weird.

It was not a favor to grate for and forget.

And still, Joker asked for nothing. He just told Sionis that he was having fun watching the ex-kid of Batman beating him. Like, it was always better to fight fire with fire.

“I’m in.” Sionis’ voice husky, his throat too dry. And the reason for it wasn't located on the same floor with him. “Suppose, we still have that encrypted hard line to communicate?”

Victor confirmed with nodding, and soon the company left the club. Everyone, except three of them: Roman, Vic and the clown. And the last one was fidgeting more than usual, sitting either to Vic’s sofa, or to Sionis’. He was joking – and that  _ was _ as usual – and throwing too many hints about Jason.

Finally, as Roman ignored him for too long, Joker asked Vic to walk for a while.

It was the moment, when the song already ended, and a girl with an acoustic guitar got up to the stage, gave a hug to Jason (his smile at that very moment caused some thorn feeling in the chest) and took a seat near him, just on the offered chair.

And then…

“You like the kid, I know that,” Joker’s whisper to his ear sounded louder than the first guitar chords. “The way to watch him, the way he is loyal to you. You don’t even try to hide your obsession…”

Why was he…?

‘ _ On the crest of the wave, on the point of the blade it will carry me my Odyssey…’ _

Voices of Jason and the girl entwined into a beautiful duet, and the way they were changing each other was creating a magnificent image of a confident spirit, ready to go on and face anything the fate got for them.

“The boy adores you and drooling at you,” Joker continued, touching Roman’s neck with the tip of the knife. “Like a street puppy, lost and abandoned. And I was the one to take care of him, Sionis. I hope you remember that.”

Damn clown.

He always wanted something.

And demanded that at the most uncomfortable moments.

_ ‘Justice in my hands, I ride with the wind, borne upon the turning tides. My fate will follow me…’ _

Beautiful Jason there, and ugly Joker here.

“What I want is to see how Jason puts Bats into Arkham’s reign. Make him do that. Motivate him, and he’s all yours.”

_ ‘Winds on the ocean set me free, we will flow across the lines…’ _

***

Now without the make-up Harley did in order to hide the scar, he finally could feel his skin breathed in and didn’t want to come back after the layers of… He didn’t know what was that and didn’t want to know.

The night was about to end, though it was hard to say looking into the dark cloudy sky. No stars to see, and even if there weren’t any of the city lights, nothing could be seen because of those puffy things crossing the atmosphere above his head.

He thought it was nice to be covered with clouds.

“You did well today.” Kara smiled and hugged him again. They met too rarely this year, and that’s what made him feel bad. He missed her, she was one of his friends – the only from  _ that _ time. “And I noticed that the man in the mask still looks at you right now just the way he was during the night. An acquaintance?”

Jason traced her line of sight and saw Sionis on the top of the club stairs. Indeed, he was looking at them, well, more at Jason, obviously. His dark coat spotted with rare flying snowflakes, seemed that they were captured by the wool fabric. They were finding their peace place, and were not going to fly anywhere else.

“Sorry to leave you that soon, but…”

Yes, Kara. ‘But’.

She squeezed him as tight as she could. Kara was warm, she smelled with flowers and candies. Even after all this time she was a beam of sunlight for him.

They promised to see each other soon.

_ But _ they both knew, it wouldn’t happen.

Not because of Black Mask who took Kara’s place as she went downstairs and took a taxi cabin, not because of Roman asking about her in a voice strange and unfamiliar. But life had always been a piece of shit to them. They had been fighting, fought and would fight, and their rare meetings were pieces of victory, a reward, checkpoint to take a break.

“You seem to be close.”

Jason took a cigarette and used Roman’s lighter.

It still didn’t lose its gasoline stock.

For some reason it was hard to answer quickly. He looked into red eyes, comparing them with the tip of the smoke against his own will. Jason didn’t want to hide the truth or tell the lies, but also he didn’t want Roman to pay attention to Kara.

It was that part of his life that must be hidden.

By the thickest clouds he could create.

But also Roman deserved the truth, a reason to turn his face away from some Jason’s parts.

“Kara. My friend, we met in the church…” he tapped the cigarette with his thumb. “We used to sleep together, fight against priests’ harassments, steal food and other stuff. We survived together. The night I died she died too. She was in a coma after the car accident when I was in Lazarus Pit. And I don’t want you to ask about her.” Jason looked to Roman’s eyes again. “It’s better to know nothing about Kara. And even better to pretend you never saw her.”

The nod Sionis gave him was enough to be sure: Roman would do this for him.

“Your voice is impressive as always, and I’m glad to have opportunities to listen to you, Jason.”

…and that was hard to determine, if the blush on his cheeks was caused by the biting cold November air, or by Roman’s ability to tell sincere things in a manner that made Jason feel more significant than he was.

To feel important.

Needed.

On the contrary, having his place close to Roman was comfortable. Confused with opposite feelings, Jason threw his cigarette.

It took him seconds to make a choice.

Damn what he owned and what he knew, and what could happen to him because of switching off the necessity to think ahead. The only thing that frightened people was death, and he was familiar with Her.

Which meant he could allow himself to grab Roman’s sleeve.

“Jason…?”

“We gotta go. Now.”

Kara brought light to his life.

Roman brought him into the heart of an exploding star. And nothing was stronger, nothing but Roman burnt his blood and turned it into magma.

When they got to Jason's safehouse, he was first to bite the mask’s eternal grin.

***

“Feeling comfortable?”

Jason shifted, trying to focus not on Roman’s hot skin touching his forearms, but on the feeling of sharpened edges of the dagger. It is located between his wrists bound tightly with a thick rope. This rope had lots of knots snaking along his arms, almost reaching his shoulders.

Roman called it ‘Shibari’, but honestly, Jason didn’t care at all.

Lack of freedom was thrilling. More exciting than kneeling in front of Sionis’ desk, hand on the table, held by the only dagger pinned into the wooden surface. Its sides slid on the thin skin, leaving light, barely felt, line marks. This state: being blinded by eye patch, having Roman who played on the verge of his sensitivity with mocking joy; the state of following one’s design kept his mind free of any thought.

It was pure nothing in his mind, and his body – in opposition – was reacting with overwhelming responsiveness, uncontrolled, and it was the sweetest experience. Jason didn’t try to analyze it, but instead, he was as obedient as possible to any word he was told.

“I asked you a question, Jason.”

With a strong grip, Roman lifted his blushed face to examine, reminding him he was to give an answer.

Was he feeling comfortable?

He bet he was better than just ‘comfortable’.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.”

Now Roman didn’t ask if Jason wanted anything, and that was unnecessary. Jason was trustful, and he knew with some inner knowledge that Roman was  _ that _ person.

A needed one.

“Stand still.”

Burning traces left when Sionis ran his ungloved hands down Jason’s sides, down even to touch his thighs covered by underpants fabric. With a muffled sigh, Jason lowered his head between lifted shoulders. Heart thudding in his chest, and when Roman leaned forward to press to his back, Jason found himself nothing but a live wire.

He couldn’t breathe, but was happy to suffocate as his wrists were cut more and Roman’s hand reached his hard cock. Happy to feel his mouth dry and the breath caught in his throat, to feel the cruel tight knot growing inside him, destroying everything, and every single atom of what was called Jason Todd.

“Jason…”

Shivering, shuddering and sweating in Roman’s hands, he rolled his hips to press tightly to Sionis’ hardness, still in his pants.

He was not able to stay silent and not to whimper, as the zipper of the mask scratched his ear. Roman’s scent – cologne and musk, sweat, coffee – was more than just a part of the needed air. It was poisoning him, infusing with his blood.

And this charm ended as the hallway exploded with voices and gunfire.

“Shit.”

Roma groaned with obvious disappointment, and even this sound made Jason tremble badly, and he felt a bit ashamed because of it. Just a bit. A little bitter piece but he always found the bitter-sweet thing most tempting.

“Seems, Daddy’s gonna work a little.” Jason heard the familiar sound of daggers – not the one he was pierced to the table – leaving their scabbard. In seconds Roman was ready to go out, but he interrupts himself to reach Jason again. To give him a caress of a gloved hand now, “You’ll be a good boy, won’t you? The door stays open. And you do  _ not _ move. Nobody will see you, no one will enter the room.”

Even though the parlor was not forbidden to visit by Roman’s employees, Jason had no reason to hesitate. Not a hint of a doubt in his mind, and the only thing he longed for was an early return.

He didn’t bother trying to know if there was anything bad.

It was his day off, offered by Sionis himself, and the whole day they were ‘playing’. That’s what Roman called it. They had not left the parlor for the whole day. First they had been sitting on the sofa, Roman showed he remembered Jason’s weak spot. He brought a rope, and it was pretty rough. And – what Jason loved the most – it did leave prints on his skin, with Sionis’ skills in bondage the rope didn’t crush major blood vessels.

It was interesting to watch knot after knot blooming, keeping his hands and forearms close to each other.

Exciting to watch Roman fully enjoying creating.

It was a meditative, slow and peaceful joy of diving into something dark and thoughtless, and gently disappearing in the viscous desire. Roman loved his daggers, and loved using them whenever it was suitable. And Jason was more than suitable for the occasion. Sionis had closed his eyes with the patch, telling him he didn’t like watching his work, but he was fond of Jason’s voice.

The path to the table was not short at all.

One step forward, and the more his body was opening for the cool air of the parlor and smooth steel. It was dancing on the very surface of his skin, stinging and soothing, and burning, and with eyes closed, it was the center of his universe. Damn hot, and the gravity played a pleasantly bad trick with his perception.

When he reached the table, and Roman pinned his hands in a sharp motion, Jason was ready to come.

…the sounds of the hallway vanished, and Jason was not able to trace the time. He was trying to be obedient – because of Roman, loving both his daggers and obedience shown – and savoring the smell, the taste of the new feeling.

He was not afraid of anyone coming in and seeing him almost naked, kneeling in front of the table, hard and flushed full body, and totally mad with the heat he couldn’t cope with. He couldn’t do it alone.

“Jason, my boy…”

Roman rushed with a blow of the fresh air and strong iron scent, scent of warmth fading away, scent of death, wet scent. Scent of human’s stolen life.

Jason didn’t see him, but he knew Roman was covered with blood.

“I’m so sorry to leave you here.”

His ‘sorry’ was touching Jason’s cock with glove, dirty and sticky with blood. Roman’s ‘sorry’ was the scent of the leather mask taken off a bit – enough to bury his face into the crook of Jason’s neck and grab his skin with teeth. Painfully, like he was going to tear off a piece.

Jason was more than mad if the scent of blood, and the pain itself were those things to bring him to exploding, blasting him out of the reality orgasm.

Tears came unbidden, and the trembling in Roman’s hands was too bad to try to control it.

“R-Roman…”

Voice – just a whimper, weak and wet.

Roman stop biting him only to throw the very last order.

“Louder.”

And then he sank his teeth again, into the same spot with more strength, and Jason felt blood trickles flowing down his collarbone, and the torso.

The grip on his cock too strong.

“Roman…”

With other hand he grasped his thigh digging his nails, trying to do it even through the glove layer.

Throbbing and twitching, Jason felt as some new feeling borne under his skin took the control over his body. And he could not resist anything he got. Too draining, too strong for him, too good and painful.

And the feeling killed him.

The feeling of being wanted.

“Roman!”

***

Bullets and steel singing, and their duet was compared to the one of Jason and that girl. It was gracious – the way how Red Hood was killing people must be named a next stage of art evolution. No excess movement, not a bullet, not a piece of lead wasted.

The dawn was close to shine over Gotham’s eastern docks, the abandoned ones, and the favored place of meeting on vital issues. Well, too vital, if too think about amounts – tons – of blood spilled here. Roman didn’t usually think, but it suddenly came to his mind: Gotham’s river poisoned not only by chemicals and factories waste products, but corpses. All those years that Gotham had been existing, it was devouring corpses and drinking blood.

Gotham was nothing but a pagan god.

Those pagan ones loved accepting bloody sacrifices.

And maybe, Roman knew couple of them.

“It’s done here.” Hood approached him, taking his cracked helmet off. His face became a total mess, and his hair too – the grey strand colored in dark red now. ‘J’ mark strangely untouched, the only white spot.

And Jason’s eyes, crystal clean, and glistening as always.

“Good job”

“I know.”

Of course, it  _ was _ a good job. It had to be called with any other word than good, but Roman wasn’t generous on compliments. The feeling, the satisfaction of the order and mission completed could not be formed properly into words, and there was no sense to even try to do that.

Well, yes, Jason was better than anyone else Roman knew, and from this point it included Wilson too. Though Deathstroke was a tough one, and with his super-serum, and experience, and devil knew with what more surprises, but Red Hood was just another type. Another kind of a human, outstanding, embraced with death aura and blessed with her gracious ability to reap other’s lives.

The way Jason pierced through the ‘Bane-like’ guy’s armor and clawed his heart out made Roman’s own heart stop for a few seconds and then start racing. It was beautiful. One split-second motion, fulfilled with inhuman strength.

The combat wasn’t long at all.

Penguin truly needed to re-organize his people and revise their level of training. And, of course, he better not to show himself up. There were lots of bullets with his engraved name.

“I’ll call the cleaners.” Roman said, finally ready to go away. He wanted to get to his apartment before the dawn and try to catch at least couple of hours to sleep and rest. And to talk to Jason. He had already decided that Red Hood was not a person to have in guards or any kind of employees. He needed him another way. And the Ring, it needed Jason too.  _ Another way _ . “And we better go now if you want to…”

Sharp firearm cocking sound, louder than the close noise of the dirty water.

“Not so fast, motherfuckers.”

Jason’s eyes widened, he and Roman both recognized the voice.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Nightwing held them at the gunpoint, but even from Roman’s position – and that was about 10 meters – it was seen the vigilante’s hands were shaking. Nervous about seeing his former cloak heir? Interesting. “Guns down! Both of you!”

Jason moved, but it was just a step forward. Roman didn’t even shift.

“Does your super-boyfriend know you’re here,  _ Dickie _ ? Or you’re lying to him? Again?”

Pretty entertaining scene. Maybe. It was worth lack of today’s sleep.

“Shut up! And don’t move!”

One more step.

And more.

And more.

With all anger and hatred that colored his face in red, Nightwing could not force himself, he was not able to shoot. His hands trembled badly, until Jason came closer to him, close enough to grab the Beretta and press its muzzle to his forehead.

“Go ahead, Dickie. Wanna kill me? ‘Cause you’ve become daddy’s displeasure? Oh, don’t you worry, you’ve always been his favorite pet.”

With all strength and forces Roman had, he ignored the rising excitement about Jason’s searing, scathing voice. The boy could turn into a dominating one, what a surprise. Roman would never be tired of discovering all new sides of multifaceted nature of Red Hood.

“S-shut up, Jason… You almost killed him!”

“I regret I couldn’t finish him. Did you know the coke does kill people? Well, next time it’s better to overdose Bruce, not myself…”

“You’re a fucking killer, Jason!”

Confident, cold anger washed the docks over. It was colder, than the late November’s air.

It was cold as Jason’s voice then.

Deathly.

“And the guy you think to be father of the year is a pedophile, Dickie.” Jason’s grip strengthened on the gun, he was holding Nightwing’s hands too tight, not allowing him to move. “Look at my face, Dick. Look, you, idiot. What do you see?”

“The mark. That bastard, Joker, he left it and you’ve gone crazy just like him…”

“Oh, Dickie. You know nothing.”

Roman narrowed his eyes, repositioning for better sight and at least feeling of the situation being under his control. Though, it wasn’t. Jason did control it, but that didn’t matter for him. If Jason was sure he was on top of things, then Sionis felt the same.

His Ring warmed up.

Something was going to happen. Right now.

“’J’ is for ‘Justice’, Dick. B. left this mark just before he shot me.” Jason didn’t give a chance for Nightwing to insert any word. “You know his obsession with justice better than anyone else, right? Wanna evidences? Oh, you’ll be surprised, but I  _ do _ have ‘em. Alfred hid the iron brand for me. Ask him – he’ll show you Bruce’s handprints on it.”

One of things to happen was the truth. Roman also though the ‘J’ mark was made by Joker. It seems so obvious.

But now… It made sense.

…the Ring was warming more and more.

“It’s not…” Seemed like Nightwing was in doubts, he didn’t look into Jason’s eyes, he lowered his head. And his voice too. “…it can’t be true… You’re killing people, Jason. Working for Black Mask, he’s…”

“He doesn’t put on those sort of masks that don’t reflect his world viewing, Dickie.” Again, Roman needed to catch his breath in order not to miss a word. “Black Mask doesn’t pretend to be a good guy and he doesn’t hide his shadow deals. But think about B. Calling himself a hero, but participating in kidnapping and child slavery. He killed the second Robin, Dick. And he didn’t tell anyone, even you. The League abandoned him! If you want to find a sick bastard, then you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“You’re lying… You’ve always been jealous and…”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Jay, n-”

BANG!

The blue part of Gotham’s vigilante colored in red, decorated with bit of Jason’s flesh. Maybe, even with pieces of his brain and debris of the skull bone. Nightwing’s face all in blood, and his lips pressed tightly, like he was afraid he could taste the red liquid.

Red Hood’s body, now unconscious, hung on the trembling hands of the first Batman’s apprentice. His head embraced with cold green light, and Roman knew he would come back in seconds.

The Ring knew it too.

“You made a mistake.” Sionis said to shocked guy in black eye mask. Nightwing, numbed, barely thinking about the reality, could not glance away from the thick green smog around Jason’s head. “Never trust anyone blindly.”

***

“How many times, Dick…?”

His vision restored partly, and he was dark and white spots – that was Greyson’s face, dirty.

His head ached.

He heard Her voice, echoes of it.

“…how many times should I die before you stop being such a blind idiot?”

Feeling of strong, but now hesitant hands supported him. Beretta fell of their hands at the moment of the shot, and now it was somewhere under their feet.

Dick was frightened.

He saw that.

And Jason never wanted to cause him any evil, but his stubbornness could do lots of harm to Tim and Alfred, and lots of innocents, and Damien – though he hoped none of Batfamily knew about him existing at all. Even Bruce should not know he had a biological son. Talia was right, she saw Bruce was a maniac, a sick man too late.

But at least, she could protect Damian.

“Tell me, Dickie, tell me one thing.” Jason stood on his own feet, but he didn’t take away his hands from Richard’s shoulders. “Hair and eyes of Bruce. What color are they?”

“W-what?”

“Just tell me.”

Even through the mask lenses, Jason saw Dick’s hesitations and confusion. He could feel it on the tip of his tongue, those emotions so strong. Spilling over the edge.

Dick  _ was _ on the edge.

“Hair black. Eyes blue.”

Right. Right, Dickie. Hold on a bit, and you would understand, you would see.

“Now: your hair, your eyes. The color.” Jason squeezed his shoulders tighter, not allowing to look at Roman standing somewhere aside. Sionis could wait. And he did, thankfully. “Well?”

“Hair black. Eyes b-”

“Jason Todd. Hair and eyes. The color?”

Dick’s eyes widened. He started to understand.

“…black and blue.” Jason answered his own question, seeing Richard was not going to respond. “Timothy Jackson Drake, hair black, eyes blue. All Robins, Dick. Don’t you feel like being tricked? Bruce’s always been a real sick bastard. Giving one and the same uniform to boys looking pretty similar. The guy’s taking little orphans to his big warm house, and he is wanting to just take care of them? Of the boys looking  _ just like fucking him in childhood?! _ ”

“Jay, I-”

Jason shook his head. Now Dick needed time to absorb the information. He was sure the chance of Tim being captured in a trap would break Nightwing. Tim was too young. And they needed to take care of him. To save him from Bat’s claws.

With intuition, or with any other sense gained with Death’s blessings, Jason knew Clark was not just above their heads.

He lifted his face to the dark sky and whispered few words.

A flash, again, barely seen, took Dick’s body from his hands and left him face to face with only Roman.

“That reminds me of family feud” Sionis put his hands into pockets and approached Jason. He was sure, Roman was smiling under his mask. The bite wound Roman left on his neck echoed with dull pain. “You look tired. Want to go home and pretend nothing happened?”

Jason wanted to forget.

Jason needed to go anyway, just far enough to never remember.

But he couldn’t. And he felt he could now let himself tell nothing to Roman, to hide anything. He… Something inside him told him it was right to open the truth to Sionis.

And, of course, it meant he could help the League to find their new base.

“We wanted to be a family. It was long ago. When Jason Todd became the second Wonder Boy.” Jason exhaled, and little white cloud of his breathing flew away. Somewhere, maybe forward, where the sun tried to make its way through sick layers of the real clouds. The dawn has come. It was catching its reflection of the river, drawing a vibrant, unsteady image of the path. “The death in the family happened. And none wants to be responsible for his actions. And they need to pay for it.”

Roman stayed silent. He was examining Jason’s face, and that was…soothing. It was normal, this particular position felt right.

“…the new day comes. And new death too. One day…” Jason’s voice broke into whisper, and his eyes watching the dawn burst in tears, washing the dry blood on his cheeks. “…one day there will be no death. I know it. Soon there will be no Jason to die.”

The Ring pulsated.

They reached their goal. The cruel wind did move.


	10. “One who brings”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry to be so slow to write and publish! I had lots of issues, including both good and bad: I had the 4th anniversary with my beloved person, and I had my bday in the beginnig of September. And then I had tons of work, and then we were forced to move into the office, and my quarantine remote work ended. Now I need to work in the office, and we still do have lots of things to do.
> 
> Hope you understand my silence!
> 
> I'm doing my best to write despite everything! Your comments and kudos will help me to restore my writing speed ^^  
> Hope you like this chapter. It's the last one where you can see anything cute and nice. The further - the darker.
> 
> And I'd like to say special thank you to my beta and just person-wonder, Mary_Madison_Jude. Without you I'd definitely give up.  
> Thanks, love <3

_ “Then wilt thou not be loath _

_ To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess _

_ A Paradise within thee, happier far.” _

John Milton, ‘Paradise Lost’

_ Snow was dancing in the green light, a choreographed ballet, subtlety and meditative grace, not disturbed even by the gentle wind of the Pit. Jason watched, with his eyes full of snowflakes reflections like tiny stars in dark-blue summer sky. _

_ The snow. _

_ Even here, in not-quite-real dimension, it had its own character. _

_ It covered every stone, every ruin of the column, it was a feather cushion, soft and warm. And in that point this pure whiteness was one more source of the contrast to the fake Pit. It was not like Roman illusion’s eyes, piercing and heating like the surface of the sun. But the snow was more about coziness, about the feeling of the cover – and that cover seemed to protect from any possible evil. _

_ Even though it was not a thing Jason could allow himself to believe, he liked this feeling of childish joy. He was fascinated by the period of holidays, the atmosphere of hope and dreams of the light, pure just like Christmas snow, future. He let himself become captured by the crowd’s common obsession with winter. _

_ Jason loved to give himself a chance to feel…normal. _

_ To pretend to be a person with a future and hopes, and dreams of something – anything – pleasant. _

_ Not plans of new ammo upgrades, not dreams of revenge. _

_ But a naïve feeling of celebration, of senseless happiness. It was the only rare moment, just once a year, when he wanted to be deceived, and he was. By himself, because he didn’t let anybody do that. _

_ But this year… It was different. _

_ Before this winter Jason had never had a timer saying there were few weeks left. But now it was there, burning figures just above Roman’s illusion. Yesterday it showed ‘56’, and now it was ‘55’. For sure, it was counting his days. But he didn’t manage to know what was the purpose of the counting, and She seemed to be unwilling to give him the answer, and the hint, and anything that could help him to know his destiny. _

_ “I’m sitting and meditating here like a jedi, and you’re not helping. Both of you.” The semi-transparent figure of Roman changed its expression a few days ago, now it was more frowned, like being dissatisfied with something and both thinking deeply. She became silent, telling literally nothing to Jason. She was unmovable, her shadow was covering him from above. “I need to know what I’ll face, don’t I?” _

**_EVERYTHING WILL COME AT THE RIGHT TIME._ **

_ It was the very first and the last time before Christmas She spoke to him. _

_ And Jason wasn’t sure if he was glad about it. _

***

Winter Gotham had nothing common with any other season, and it was a great miracle of the city. Secret, mystery wonder turned the dull and grey realm of shadows into a blurred version of itself. Blurred and colored with white, the color that covered and muted the city vanity. The snow, puffy and silent watcher, became the part of everyone’s life, and none was thinking about it.

People watched the snow embrace leafless trees, now sleeping until the spring’s come. They enjoyed the ice skating, felt love and unity in the night, not frightening at all during the Christmas holidays. Wreaths, garlands, thousands of colorful sparks everywhere to make citizens feel safe, to let them go outside when the sun went down already.

Gotham transformed. Hid its claws and fangs.

It brought peace to people’s houses and was getting endless gratitude from inhabitants.

Sometimes Gotham was not bad at all.

But those times when it was not bad, it stopped being true Gotham.

“I called you more than half an hour ago. What took you so long?” Roman didn’t glance away from the night snowfall, trying to recall the points of the upcoming deal. He was not bothered with Jason appearing in his parlor at all, though he had more free time an hour ago, and he counted on having some fun.

“I was…” Jason sounded confused, but his voice was coming closer. Good. Roman wanted to talk in a low voice. In order both not to ruin the thinking mood, like he didn’t want to scare or oversound important thoughts; and because he was shouting at the stupid ‘cleaners’ major part of the day, and his throat was sore. “It's Christmas soon. I was wrapping presents.”

…it was Jason who washed away any important thought about business.

Again.

Like he was rushing things, desiring the painful future to come faster.

Jason, Jason. Little bird writhing around its cage, shouting and drawing attention. Why couldn’t you be more quiet? Measure things and think over the future steps? Why not trying to slow down and look around, why not exploring the world you see? Jason Todd, so obsessed with his duty and with any relationship he had.

Just for a brief moment Roman felt a bit of sorrow.

But it was taken away by an invisible, little and quick bird.

“Yes, Christmas.” Sionis, against his own will, found Jason’s reflection. It was their game, unspoken, never discussed, but been played for a long time already. To look into the reflection's eyes and guess what was on its owner’s mind. “I don’t have a present for you. But I do have news. You’re not working for me anymore.”

“What?”

There were moments when Roman truly doubted if Red Hood could be  _ that  _ absent-minded. Jason made an impression of a well-trained mercenary, but for some reason he demonstrated his weak points. Too fast, too simple, too foolish. If anyone was in Romans' place then surely they would abuse this feature of Jason’s. But Sionis did have a plan. And he wasn’t going to fail. Not again.

With a sigh, he repeated the ‘news’ in changed words.

Patience was something more than a simple virtue, and it took inhuman effort for Roman to stay calm. Not to just look quiet but also not let himself feel any hint of rage.

He hated stupidity.

Hated those times he needed to repeat himself.

It was just a waste of time.

“I say, Jason, that our contract – between you and me – is over.”

“Wait, you can’t do that to me!” Jason grabbed his shoulder and turned Roman to see his mask, to try to look into his eyes. Jason’s face was blushing with red anger. Glance full of disappointment. Misunderstanding pierces his voice painfully. “What's wrong? I never failed you! Why?”

...and Sionis hated sharp movements, especially when he was touched without permission.

“Just for you to know: the contract can be terminated unilaterally by me. And I used my right to do that.” Sionis gently took Jason’s hand off his shoulder and fixed his jacket. The feeling of boredom overwhelmed him. Jason was too predictable, Roman could foresee this reaction. “I’m in no need of your service now. And I don’t want to see you amidst my employees.”

“But...why? Just tell me...”

Thankfully, the Ring remained silent. Otherwise, the load of secrets that were to open at the needed time, would drive Roman Sionis mad.

“I’m neither going to discuss my decisions with you, nor I’m willing to spend my work time with you complaining and flying off the handle. You may go now. Wherever you want. The faster - the better.”

Jason’s emotions were too obvious.

Maybe, he felt it and that’s why he took a tiny step back. And then one more. And again.

Even without any word thrown, Jason was too loud. Too loud to think he was used and now was not an object of any interest. Too loud to think lots of shit including self-pity. Jason loved to be killed inside, to think those dark thoughts about existing in the world that was trying to get rid of him.

Roman knew his mind, his thoughts.

Nothing could stop Jason now, nothing was able to prevent sharp stinging of the resentment.

But Sionis was the one to be aware of more important things. And soon Jason would forgive - no - he would forget about everything.

“I...” Jason coughed, already leaving the parlour. “I’m leaving the apartment. Suppose you’re dont wanna see me ‘round.”

“Do whatever you want, Jason.”

One more little insult, loud and wordless, and the door shut.

The snow seemed to look even whiter than before, making Roman’s eyes feel uncomfortable.

***

Everything packed and wrapped, and he was ready to leave the building. Without any chance to return. Jason was sure Roman would never hire him again.

Frustration. Disappointment.

Jason failed his employer, he failed himself. Maybe, long ago, Harley was right, and he didn’t need to follow Slade, to follow the path he once tried and died. Maybe, this kind of work was not for him, not for a person with psychological problems. On the other hand, there were none Jason could call healthy.

Gotham was nothing but an attractive whore with legs wide spread. It was attracting psychos, and all of them now sinking and boiling in the filthy melting pot. With snow-white gracious Gotham was killing them, creating new toys to play with.

They - all of them, starting from the founders and self-appointed ‘heroes’ - were mistaken in the idea of ruling the city. Gotham had its own will. And the name of it was madness.

Maybe, he needed to leave this life.

Before it was too late.

‘ _ Make them dance as you can do’  _ \- Jason thought the short note was too much, but he couldn't go without the last word. He saw those daggers a few weeks ago, and there was no appropriate moment to give them to Roman.

Now…

It wasn’t suitable either, but he had an excuse.

**54**

***

“...no, I don’t want to buy their new application… What do you mean, Circe? Of course, I’m  _ not  _ in the habit of  _ not  _ looking gift horses in the mouths. As I’ve already mentioned, the necessity of...”

Circe - the new one, Roman didn’t bother himself with recalling the names of his secretaries, all of them were Circes - stopped and blinked in amazement. Sionis made a sudden stop just in front of his apartment door, and Circe had to gather her thoughts together.

Another inch forward and a left a bit, and she would’ve clashed into wide Roman’s back now clothed by italian jacket of dark chocolate color.

She had been working here for just two weeks, but she already knew Roman didn’t like anyone invading his personal space.

“Sir, I’m not sure you should take this box without checking it...”

“Oh, sweet Circe, I’m pleased to know you’ve become aware of my preferences after a long and boring explanation of the business process.” Roman picked up a small box - not bigger than his palm - with a brief note attached. “But this time there’s nothing to be worried about. Just a gift from…a friend of mine.”

He opened the box, usual cardboard and nothing special. Nothing special outside.

There were daggers inside.

Familiar daggers.

“Where’s Vic?” his mouth and throat went too dry to talk in a voice, and Circe was astonished again by a sudden whisper. “I need him. Now.”

The time had come.

***

Less than an hour left before they would start fireworks and the central Gotham bell would ring. It was the tradition: Mayor Hill was going to read a short but touching speech on the central square a few minutes before midnight. Then the citizens who preferred to stay outside and meet the Mayor would sing carols during the clock ringing.

And - ta-da - the Christmas mood was here and everyone was happy.

Even Jason let himself be happy and accept the irrational thirst of celebration. It took him away, far away from his problems. Holiday was his another version of the Pit, not a fake dimension, not alternative piece of the reality, but Christmas was his chamber of life.

Jason lived those 24 hours (sometimes 48, including Christmas Eve) as a person who had something to dream about, something to want, desires and plans; he was a person with a real future, not written to the very minute.

He was in love with this life: having several joints with favorite sorts of weed, with O. Henry’s humorous short stories, a couple of chips bags (he didn’t even remember which flavor he chose, and it didn’t even matter). 

Even the old safehouse, the ex-family apartment, didn’t darken the Christmas feeling.

Windows covered by dark fabric, no electric lights, but candles, and old creaky sofa were his companions for this special night. And maybe one could find it a bit too reserved or pierced with screaming loneliness, but Jason felt…right. It was his night, his holiday.

And today nothing except Pharaoh and Chorale could…

_ Knock-knock-knock _ sounded hastily and reminded him of the mocking version of the traditional ‘ _ Ho-Ho-ho _ ’.

Jason was absolutely sure that nobody but several old junkies who still remembered his mother could try to congratulate him. And try, of course, borrow some money. Those people never frightened Jason. They were calm and kind despite the fact of the addiction. And he knew they really tried to fix it.

But…the Fortune could not be always in your favor, right?

“You…?”

The dark brown tweed coat didn’t belong to junkies.

“May I come in before we start having our conversation?” Roman’s voice is low and quiet, but for Jason it seemed like an endless echo travelled downstairs.

Roman.

Roman Sionis.

Among all the people who could come here on this particular night Roman had no place at all. Not even the last.

He just could not be in the list, it was impossible. Jason never told him about this safehouse, neither he was going to tell about it in the future. It was…the place of intimate privacy. If he had felt naked after Roman had read his book notes, now Jason felt skinless in front of him.

It was a soft kick.

This apartment - achilles heel of Jason Todd.

But still, Jason watched ruby red eyes sparkle in the depth of the mask. He smelled the strong cologne scent and saw a hint of impatience in the gestures Sionis tried to control.

“Y-yeah, ‘course...”

After smoking weed Jason’s mind was a bit blurry, but the sight of Roman Sionis standing at the center of his most private safehouse immediately removed the half of the relax Jason already reached. Now he was nervous.

And who would  _ not  _ be nervous if Black Mask came to their most secret spot on Christmas night, several days after firing?

“I hope your relations with Victor won’t spoil after my visit.” Roman took a glance, noticing chips bowl and joints, and the ashtray full of cigarettes and…some other ashes. Suddenly candles were the things to catch his attention. Sionis moved along the apartment, examining every single wax cylinder melting slowly. “I knew you’d have an interesting image of Christmas celebration, and I’m not disappointed. Once I said, Jason, that you’re the most intriguing person I’ve ever met, and I’m not going to take my word back.”

If anyone asked Jason at that very moment if a cat got his tongue, he would nod. And it’d be the only thing he would be able to do.

Frozen at the shut door, he couldn’t stop looking at Roman, couldn’t force himself to start thinking just...anything. It was too much. Too sudden invasion into his inner sanctum. He had never felt worse, and that didn’t mean literally bad feelings. Jason had never experienced the position when he had nothing to do and nothing to say, and his every muscle didn’t even move.

He turned into a whole, 200% attention.

Nothing mattered but the reason why Roman was here.

“I assume you may have lots of questions, but don’t worry. In a few seconds...” At the moment Roman threw his hand into the air to check his watch the door accepted one more portion of quick ‘ _ Knock-knock-knock _ ’. “...Right on time.”

Jason opened the door and was fast enough to realize those people didn’t need any help. Three tall and handsome young men in waiter uniforms wheeled two carts of medium size - both of them almost reached Jason’s knee - into the apartment, wished bon appetit and were gone.

Each cart had three levels, and they smelled magnificent. Before Roman spoke again, Jason recognized seasoning usually served with bird meat.

“Have a seat, Jason. I can’t predict your reaction, but trust me, you will be...surprised, at least.” Slowly, watching Jason taking a seat on the old sofa, Roman took two identical cardboard boxes from his inner pocket.

Jason knew those boxes.

_ The one _ he knew - there were daggers he left for Roman.

“What are you…?”

But Sionis didn’t give him a chance to say a word.

“Please. I need you to just listen. This is not simple at all.” 

With a sigh, Roman put boxes on the table and opened each of them. But he didn’t touch the inside. Instead, he took off his gloves. And strange things started happening for Jason from this exact point.

Roman’s left hand was a usual hand of a human, but the right one was of black color. The very tips of fingers darker, and the wrist was more grey than black, almost a human skin.

And a ring of strange form, a bit similar to…

“What do you know about Lanterns, Jason? I’m not talking about the lighting on the streets. No lies, no tricks, please.”

Jason knew about the Green Lanterns Corps, about Yellow Corp - less; Red Corp - a little.

He knew their Rings found their power in the emotional spectre of living beings.

“That’s right.” Roman nodded. “But I’m the Black Lantern, the only Black Lantern in this universe and in the one I’ve come from. The Black Lantern is not a part of the emotional spectre. Black Lanterns are the part of universal power, the aspect of the endless cycle. The one familiar to you. It’s Death, Jason. And… And I know the voices you hear. I’ve always known that. Death is talking to you.”

Mouth dry, and his throat was suddenly aching. Something was stinging his eyes, and water blanketed Jason’s vision when he tried to ask further questions. He didn’t notice his hands tremble because of the strong pain that embraced his temples.

He remembered.

Every single conversation She had with him.

Every single word.

Until the reality rushed into his mind with the pair of red eyes.

“One more thing is...” Roman’s mask found its place on the table, close to the gloves and the boxes. His hair was dark, and skin pale. Sharp cheekbones, the look frowned. Roman from the fake Pit was real. And was standing in front of Jason in his secret safehouse. “I am not the Roman Sionis from this universe. In your reality he was murdered by Bruce Wayne, and nobody could save him. I travelled through other universes and realities to become the new Roman Sionis here, to hide my real face and pretend I was disfigured. In my own world there was a war, and the former Black Lantern gave me the last Ring to keep. Now I’m here. To tell you that you’re the part of this aspect too. And to save you.”

Jason wasn’t sure his heart was not going to kill him.

The beat was too strong.

Too painful.

He lost his breath, counting his deaths, listening to his memories about Her talking to him, recalling Roman’s illusion. An avalanche of everything was going to bury him. His lungs refused to spread, the throat seemed to be held in by a firm hand.

Nothing to understand and so much revealed at once.

There was no place for doubts, literally, Jason didn’t know how to cope with this stream of information. A dam broke. No chance to stop the waters of knowledge.

“You said… You didn’t want to see me anymore...” Jason heard his voice as if it belonged to a stranger.

“You should be more attentive to the words said” Jason winced at Roman’s low voice. “I said that I didn’t want you to be my employee. I never said I didn’t want to see you. It was your decision to go away, and I do pay respect to your will.”

Too many words.

Unnecessary, trash, the husk.

**_THIS PERSON IS THE GREATEST PART OF YOUR PAINFUL FUTURE, CHILD._ **

...and She showed him lots of other hints too.

She knew everything from the start.

She didn’t want Jason to know earlier, but…why?

“...the worst part of it is...” Roman took something from the boxes and kneeled before Jason, right on the dirty floor full of cigarette ash. He took Jason’s hands and put cold metall things, daggers. They were the same, almost identical, like two boxes, but one pair was broken and molten. “...you’ve already given me the daggers. Another Jason has. But I failed you - another you in another universe. You died, Jason, in the world I’ve come from. And I lost my memories about you for a long time, but now I found you as long as I found my memory. And I won’t make any mistake again.”

Voices.

Screams.

Jason Todd was dying in the enormous amount of alternate universes.

And the Death… And Roman… And…

“Jason, look at me.” For a short moment - the time needed for Roman’s hand to caress his wet cheek - Jason almost returned to his safehouse. “We are a part of one aspect. It means more than one’s life, more than distance, and space, and time. You’re more than a usual wonder, boy.”

And then… The background rumble of the fireworks, colorful sparks, Death’s words and the vertigo of his possible, impossible and occured deaths, and the warmth of the lips mixed into one Christmas night.

It tasted as bitter as a betrayal could taste. It was sweet as the honeydew, and terrifying as the first death. It was his blazing sun - in the depth of the red eyes, and it was his auto-da-fé.

It was the taste of the word, a dangerous word, the word to flame his heart and turn into dust thousands of worlds.

One word.

Never to be spoken, but once promised.

***

In his bare hands, now free from gloves, Jason was a vivid fire, a pure lightning, full of life and burning Roman’s own blood with wild and dangerous fire.

Jason was wild.

He was tight inside, and hot as hell, and heavenly beautiful when he screamed his name and dug his nails into Sionis’ skin. Roman already loved those future scars and scratches as he loved Jason, as he loved to feel his warmth, his responsive body. 

No matter how Roman tried to spread Jason’s legs wider, he couldn’t.

His wonder boy held him tightly, crushed into his body and bit his lips till the tiny blood streams ran down their chins.

It was red.

Their night was red, full of strange hisses and moans.

Red were Roman’s eyes when he caught his reflection in Jason’s.

“Harder”, he said. “I want to feel you… Harder.”

It was the first order in Roman’s life which he followed mindlessly.

***

The morning brought him the sweet aroma of fresh coffee and cocoa with cinnamon.

And a present under a bold small parody on the fir tree. It was standing on a thing which in the past could have the name of a TV tray.

“What’s that?”

Jason took a snow white envelope with a short signature, the handwriting was too familiar, of course it was Roman’s.

Sionis came back a few minutes ago, and he just put off his mask to sip the coffee before it became too cold. He took a cup of cocoa for Jason. No stimulators, just as Slade said.

“You’re not the one to give presents, aren’t you?” Roman’s smile was a spear, it hit Jason’s chest without a miss. “Open it, Jason.”

Once he asked everything.

_ “You ask - I give. Everything, in this world or another. It’s yours.” _

That was a Christmas gift from Roman Sionis who never belonged to this reality.

**48**


	11. “The breakpoint”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is super dynamic, a fight one^^
> 
> Hope you enjoy this one too!

_“How easy it is to judge rightly after one sees what evil comes from judging wrongly.”_

Elizabeth Gaskell, ‘Wives and Daughters’

**30**

“No way!”

“I’m telling you! She remembers the haircolor of every single doll, and there are more than two hundred of ‘em! Lil’ Kate will eat me alive if l bring her the wrong doll!”

“That’s why I don’t even try to start a family,” Jason laughed and sipped his diet cola. “Mate! It tastes like shit!”

“You better know.”

“Screw you!”

They were walking down the street in South Gotham after Vic had bought a super rare doll for his daughter. His contract with Sionis was over, and he finally had free time to see his family: his wife and the little naughty princess. The older friend had lots of doubts if he needed to return to his mercenary being.

His family was already safe, and there was no need in worrying about.

Vic’s bank accounts were full of the payments from the pleased employers, and Roman Sionis’ name was among them.

It was his wet dream - in a good sense - to stay at home and live just as usual family guys did. Despite Victor being an old comrade of Slade, he was another sort of a human. Those features Victor possessed contrasted so much with Deathstroke’s nature, and Jason liked that. It was Victor who counter the hot head, the blood lust during the battle scenes they walked through. It was Victor by his side who never betrayed and never said money could buy anything.

A friend.

A rare friend for Jason who asked nothing in return.

“So, gonna have a sweet vacation?” It was a long pause, Jason already threw his empty cup and was thinking about Roman’s offer.

Yes, it was about vacation. Sort of. It was hard to explain, and Roman rarely wanted to explain details he found either obvious or too inconsequential to pay attention to. Few nights after Christmas Sionis claimed he had been planning their leave. From Gotham, from the dirt and smog, and from the pressing presence of ‘unwanted objects’. He mentioned no route nor a destination point.

Jason wasn’t a fool and had never been.

It wasn’t hard to put two and two.

The Ring, the Black Lantern power, was guiding Sionis. After the day he took off his mask, Jason noticed the man started breathing more freely. Though it was not a plan to reveal his true identity - the fakeness would not be met with great joy. Jason had no idea how it could be, what the consequences they could meet.

Nobody knew, and nobody should know Roman Sionis was not the Black Mask.

“...a luxury hotel room, for newly-weds...” Vic went on and on smiling and throwing glances with cunning sparks.

“I said…” A long, not so distant cry, interrupted his stream of obscene words. “D’you hear that?”

Vic did.

The supersoldier must hear those things when someone was crying for help.

He frowned and looked in the same direction. At daytime Gotham was hard to be called secure. And at night it became uncontrolled. If there was a place, a single spot in the world where all the sins and human’s disasters came from, then it had to be night Gotham.

“Mary will kill me,” he sighed when they both rushed into the darkness of the abandoned railway station.

The station used to belong to Penguin when he had more power than he did these days. As his ambitions grew, the non-flying bird of Gotham had lacked his resources, and the influence reduced. Several unsuccessful cases almost killed his enterprise. But Penguin was a true Cobblepot and he knew some positions were easy to come and easy to go. If he tried to fight for the station, he’d fail.

Oswald did great, and that’s true.

He had an incredibly profitable deal.

With none other than Batman.

“...stop! You’re doing the wrong thing!”

This voice… So young, younger than Jason. And desperate, it sounded anguished, at the edge of hysterical tone.

_Tim._

“Either you do what you were taken here for or you can kiss goodbye to the Robin mantle.”

...and Bruce?

Shit.

Raspy sounds of the old corrupted metal, the darkness full of little rustles made Jason’s nerves ring with the high level of tension. The sweat dropped from his temple, streamed down to the chin as he saw Vic gesturing to him.

They took different positions, as they used to do during training and multiple missions.

Victor - on the highest possible spot to see the whole scene, to analyze. The super-soldier serum helped them all, Vic’s eyes never failed.

“Please!” Vic’s hands froze as they heard a high-pitched voice, hysterically frightened. The female voice. “Why are you doing this? You were a hero! You were -”

Biting sound of a strong slap colored Jason’s sight with red.

A distant kid’s cry almost blinded him with primal fury.

“Shut up, you filthy whore…!”

“Jason, no!”

Maybe, they shouted at once - Victor and Bruce - but Jason didn’t hear both of them. He rushed into the unknown. His own pull motion ran unnoticed by him, Jason didn’t see it, he just took Tim away from his way to save the kid.

He saw the boy.

In the car, embraced with fire.

“Well-well, the prodigal son came back. Classic.” Bruce was holding the woman, his hand in her hair, pretty young face dirty, in blood and something black. Probably the soil and diesel oil. Her tears were not able to erase the dirt. “You’re too predictable, _Jason_.”

“And you’re too healthy for a mere mortal, B.”

Whatever Jason’s cocky mind could think about Bruce, his exosuit was just perfect. Spine and full-back support connected with the joints, and the whole structure covered and forced by the patented Wayne’s technologies. Titanium, the green lights of the kryptonite, and several layers of the fully AI controlled inner system, supporting his damaged body.

A compliment to Jason’s work.

He left unbeatable Batman, the Dark Knight, disabled!

He died and came back, again and again.

But Bruce didn’t.

He possessed no power except money, and they would not return him to life after his death.

“With your efforts...”

Jason never knew what was wrong with his effort because Vic crashed with a high kick into Bat’s helmet, cracking it and shouting at Jason.

“‘The hell are you doing?! Get the boy out of here! The kid!”

Right, he was just an idiot who let his old fears prevail…

The kid.

Burning car kept its balance pretty well for a piece of crumpled can. Batman’s work was too obvious to ignore: the doors smacked, and the traces of fingers left just under the windows. Surprisingly, he didn’t break the windows. The car was about to explode, and the kid already passed out which made Jason’s main mission for that moment more difficult.

The battle behind him distracted his chaotical stream of thoughts. Images of the past mixed: little Jason, the next Robin, was hiding behind the door of the abandoned factory; the flash of the gunshot glistened and blinded him; the fire, lots of fire, and then it turned to green…

“Jay! Jay! He’s fucking maniac! Help me! Jay!”

Tim was already fighting the fire and the burning car. The sharp scent of the gas and melting car paint hooked his conscience, his sense of the reality and pulled forward, saving from the overwhelming memories.

“Save the cloak. The mantle, Tim! Keep it for the kid!” Jason broke the car window, trying not to inhale deeply. The fire licked his biker coat, slowly burning his skin through the fabric, almost merging both the human skin and the leather. The boy was lying on the back seat, his face also dirty, just as his mother’s. Poor creatures. The bastard would pay for that. Again and again, till it’s enough. But Jason doubted if there was a limit.

When Tim took the boy from his hands and jumped away, to take the little innocent victim of the former hero’s arbitrariness, when Jason already caught his breath, he heard a cat-call.

Vic’s grenade belt was thrown to his face.

Fully activated.

***

“Mayday! Mayday! Anyone hear me?” Victor coughed out his blood and maybe a piece of the right lung. He tried to shift his legs but the bloody stumps of his legs turned to several inches above the knee joints didn’t move. “May...day… Vic and Hood… Hood’s dead again. Bat’s got on his wings.”

The comm was silent, only white noise followed him into the darkness of the blood loss.

***

**27**

Dick rushed into the hospital not even bothering himself to ask about the location of the needed room. He knew. Thanks to fucking Deathstroke he was the last to know.

Bruce and Jayson met again.

And Jason’s dead...again.

Sometimes this city seemed to ignore the rules of normality.

“What happened?!” The room was on the third floor, no need to use the elevator but Dick found the stairs endless while he was running up. “You..?”

They were standing there. All of them like Jayson’s life cost more than just a life of a nice mercenary, like Jason turned out to be a precious stone never supposed to be vulnerable and now just shards of it were lying on the hospital bed.

White.

Everything was white to emphasize the death scent, the awful disaster Batman caused.

All of them were standing like a dangerous cloud, electrized and ready to strike. Roman Sionis in the center of the group was the heart of the danger; Dick felt, and he could almost imagine how ready he was to bite his own tongue.

Black Mask, Deathstroke, Diana, Clark, and Tim. Standing there, and the glance Clark threw was too sharp and painful, like it was Dick who caught a whole grenade belt into his face. Diana tried to hide her tears, failing but still trying. She loved her rare but intense training with Jason, she was a good friend to him. But Richard wasn’t.

Slade watched him with a frown. Nobody moved.

Except Tim.

Even Tim came here before Dick.

Fucking Deathstroke.

“You! You fucking bastard!” Tim was a flash when he jumped over the chair with a hand carried to strike, but Wilson’s movement got ahead, he grabbed Tim’s collar and pulled back. “Let go! I’ll kill him! You let Bruce do that! You’re such a fucking _dick_! You don’t deserve to stand here..! Let me go… Mph!”

The bitterness struck him, flooded Dick’s internal bay and slain all the good or any neutral motives he had before stepping in this particular room.

It was his fault.

He could’ve dissuaded Bruce from his insane idea, he had to do his best, he was obliged. Richard knew Jason would be there. Everyone knew Jason could not resist the combat if he saw Bruce.

“Why are we here, not chasing the perpetrator?” Clark’s voice was reticent, but it was better than just let the beeping life support equipment drop on everyone’s nervous system like a cold water torture. It was insane. The air smelled with insanity, not the decontamination liquid.

“Wayne’s now too far from here...”

“Then we must hurry up and..!”

Roman’s burning stare reflected the dreadful power, the strength that caused a frost wave to run along Dick’s spine.

“We - and I mean the real protectors of Gotham too, Mr.Kent - are needed here. Be patient, please. I’m the last in this city interested in wasting the time.” Sionis’ glance paused to examine Nightwing’s figure, then Tim’s, still twisting and ‘hmm-ing’ in Slade’s hands, and then he turned to Victor. “Now everyone you asked to call is here. Details, Vic. How did the fake Knight leave you disabled? Does your serum have an expiration date?”

Victor’s legs ended several inches above the knee. The medicine devices stretched their tentacles-tubes to his major blood vessels. The cut wound was already treated by the surgeons Roman Sionis trusted, and it meant those were the best surgeons either in the US or in the whole world.

Dick knew the simple fact that rich people never try to save money on important things. Instead, the better investment they did, the better profits they got. If Sionis could find and hire surgeons able to keep silence about Black Mask’s employees, then he had his business blooming rightfully.

Despite the fact of his illegal deals.

“The bastard invented the antiserum shit.” Dick’s heart skipped a beat. Vic’s words brought him out in a cold sweat. Bruce didn’t tell him. Grayson couldn’t help looking at Tim, already silent, but still kept by Slade. If looks could kill, Dick would have already had his mouth foaming and his heart agonizing in spasms.

Tim really hated him.

“...caught me off guard. None believed the antiserum was possible to invent. And then…it was a fucking bizarre.” Victor’s eyes looked at the wall and it looked like he was watching _that_ day. “Hood and Robin took the kid - the car was burning. The asshole took a sword! A fucking sword! Anyone seen Batman using swords?! God… He cut my legs and next what I felt was the fucking hemorrhaging. Not the healing effect, not the primal rage as it usually happened. The gas, that shit that was burning on the car, it was the antiserum stuff. He waited for us to come into his trap. Then he took my belt and...”

Simultaneously, like all of them were a giant part of the one system, they turned their heads to Jason’s bed.

“It was different this time. No green flashes, nothing. He was just...like minced meat. His body healed a bit, but again...” Vic frowned. Jason’s face still looked like it was used to wipe off the chainsaw. With craters and canyons of deep burns, the flesh was of a dark brown and ruby red colors, somewhere with a few hints of yellow - the subcutaneous fat. “...no green lights. His body didn’t heal properly, but it should've already.”

With a heavy sigh Roman approached Jason’s bed and then… Dick wasn’t sure he saw the right thing happen, but Sionis took off his mask to show everyone in the room his face wasn’t burnt at all, though it was believed in Gotham Roman Sionis got his pen-name after a tragedy…

It was a handsome man in his mid-thirties, with pale white skin and inhuman red eyes.

“Don’t worry, Vic.” Without the leather mask his voice sounded surreal, like another creature took his place. A creature none in this room ever met. “We’ll get nice cyber prosthetics for you. I’ll cover all the inconveniences.”

“Thanks, but Mary’s still gonna kill me. I’ve lost the fucking doll.”

“Sorry, Vic. My power ends when the one talks about children. But if Mary gets the antiserum, you better find another doll for your daughter.” A slight hint, a ghost of a smile appeared for a few seconds on Roman’s lips when he turned to Slade and Clark. “Shut the doors and be sure nobody is around. I don’t want anyone to witness my power.”

Richard didn’t see Roman Sionis take off his gloves too, but when the black matte fog, impenetrable for a human’s sight and thick, twined around his figure, Grayson experienced the most incredible feeling in his life. He forgot to inhale, and didn’t even notice that.

He watched as a giant fog arm froze above Jason’s head, and in the next second he opened his eyes.

The icy cold snakes of primal fear didn’t leave him for weeks after that day.

  
  


***

_Darkness._

_There was no Pit, the voices too distant, almost unhearable. Just some miserable echos like annoying little flies didn’t allow him to close his eyes and melt into the liquid black of the subconscious._

_He didn’t feel._

_Not his body nor his own thoughts._

_It was only darkness around, and he was a part of it. Eternal, endless, never living and never dying. He had always just been, and also he never existed as an independent piece._

_What was ‘he’?_

_What was ‘Pit’?_

_Did it matter at all?_

_And could there exist anything important if there was only nothingness around?_

**_“Jason”_ **

_The voice broke the ideal steadfastness of the darkest dimension. It was a stone thrown into the black waters. None could see, but there appeared circles, they disturbed a lot, and the only wish to return to the firm, constant state appeared._

**_“This is the last time you’re allowed to die”_ **

_Last._

_Die._

_Words with no meaning, a mix of sounds, senseless._

_“_ **_She is not going to get you back since I possess Her powers now, and even She is not an omnipotent essence in our universe_ ** _”_

_The waters of Chaos, of the origin substance everything came from, lost its peace._

_Sounds of the waves were now more physical._

_Tangible._

_“_ **_Come on, Jason, I am waiting for you_ ** _”_

_And then he saw the light._

***

**14**

“...we evacuate residents of this district.” Diana took a couple of steps back to look at the hologram map with red and blue lines showing their plan. “If you’re able to protect the city, Sionis, then we have a nice battlefield where no one gets hurt.”

“Of course, I am.” Roman rolled his eyes, but didn’t even shift in his chair. “All I need from you all is just to kill one lantern. Just one. It will be enough to devour the power of the Ring and adjust to its working principle. And then none of the rest lanterns will be able to get out of here alive.”

Nightwing frowned. It felt strange to trust Black Mask especially after discovering some true facts about him. Why did he actually bother about Jason’s safety? Why did he ask the League for help if he had the greatest plan in the world and possessed the power none could resist?

“How did you know they’d appear exactly in this spot? All of the city, why here?” He couldn’t help asking, and even Clark’s cautionary glance didn’t stop Dick.

“I know that, young Grayson, because it has already happened. In other universes, with other Romans, with other Jasons, with hundreds of different versions Gotham city. I’ve come from one of those, and that battle was lost. Any further questions or we can switch back to our agenda?”

He was right though it was the most hard thing to swallow.

Nobody wanted to work with Sionis, but since the whole city - and the universe if you could believe Roman’s words - was in danger.

And Jason.

Those lanterns wanted to murder him, and they wouldn not stop until every single Jason ended his existence. Or Roman, but Black Mask turned to be a difficult goal for slaining.

The door of the meeting room opened with an undetectable sound, but Roman knew it was Jason. Back to life, with his body fully healed and with no time to be prepared.

***

**10**

The kisses were too chaotic to remember where the lips had already been and where they had not, but Jason wasn’t bothered with it at all. He just let Roman smile at his lips and take the unnecessary clothes off.

His bare skin smooth and beautiful again, with no evidence of the previous death.

He was just eager for tender caresses, and nothing could matter more than the time in bed.

It hurt, because the timer was already to stop soon.

It was bitter-sweet and heaven-like.

**5**

Jason left scratches, lots of them, tens of bloody trails. He was happy to leave those prints and marks, the ownership stamps.

It turned out he could possess something, _someone_.

He was allowed to feel something overwhelming, something simply _human_.

**4**

A fear came, the fear that he was not able to love enough and to leave more emotions.

The hunger seemed to be eternal.

He didn’t want those thrusts and groaning to end.

**3**

Roman cupped his face with hot, burning hands.

**2**

Looked into his eyes and leaned forward to leave the very last kiss before the dawn would rise above the city.

**1**

“Whatever happens, Jason, don’t look back. You hear me? _Never_ look back.”

**0**


	12. “This battle of ours, this war of mine”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, it's been a while since the last update. and im so sorry! i had tons of work, and im buried under the docs i need to make towards the main job.  
> im trying to dedicate all my free time to writing, and when i fail i feel rly bad.  
> but still i hope you were waiting for this chapter!
> 
> and now i can tell that the end is almost near!
> 
> if you could leave at least a word or two in the comments, i will appreciate and feel power to move on and write more and faster!  
> love ya'll, guys
> 
> sry for publishing not beta_ed text, just couldnt help

_“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”_

Plato

They stepped out of the portal, tiny sparkles of red and yellow hissed as they touched the surface of their armor. Rings glistened and shared even more light: anger and fear worked together, mixing the concepts of strong emotions. Emotions of the battle.

“You said Necron failed to find an heir in this universe!” Dex-Starr repeated the sound of the sparkles, a predator hissing was louder. His tail snapped like a whip. “But what do we see here? A black lantern’s power! The death power!”

Cat’s eyes seemed to pierce the tall man’s figure in the black-and-yellow lantern’s suit. Red lantern’s intuition told him not to annoy the head of the fearful, phobia-centered corpse, but Dex couldn’t help it. His dark anticipation of the upcoming fight was shared with the others, and he wasn’t sure if he was first to feel this semi-sweet emotion.

“Whatever.” Sinestro sighed, not even trying to look at the levitating cat. His gaze was focused on the black tornado in the distance. A huge colossus of Necron with his favorite weapon – the scythe of Death – glistened, the unique metal stayed recognizable even through time and space. “The Aspect will be killed. It has already happened in all those universes and this is not going to be an exception, gentlemen. In the name of the blackest night! For it shall come and unite the realities in one!”

Atrocitus snorted, and Dex repeated the sound.

The Aspect must be slain.

***

“Use the Brother’s Eye, if you are sure you can strike, then do it.”

“Roger.” Nightwing’s response was short, and he disconnected.

Roman’s red eyes touched the comm in Slade’s hands but then returned to Diana’s Lasso and other gifts of the gods. In other words, Sionis was busy counting something in his head. Probably, doubting a half-naked woman to be a real threat to Lanterns. On the one hand, she was a goddess or something like that, on the other hand he had never witnessed Wonder Woman fighting.

His care, his concern about Jason’s safety was far beyond any human feelings, and the anxiety Roman experienced was far too strong to ignore, to put himself together. The fear of failure, the sacred terror of the possibility he could lose again was shocking. He understood that the approaching and rising despair were caused by the arrival of the Red and Yellow Corpses.

Uncovered, unleashed power of the strongest battle emotions tried to overwhelm him.

But soon, Roman knew that as well, Necron’s power would protect his internal forces. Death, the Aspect of dying, was his last source, his own Force to protect and fight.

One quick look at Jason – his face hid under the red helmet – inspired some kind of confidence.

He must do it for  _ him _ .

For the Aspect they belonged to.

“So...” Sionis cleared his throat, looking around him and fighting the internal riot of fear. “A man of steel and a woman of wonder – I hope your superpower will serve well. It’s in your best interest to save Jason. Which means saving the whole universe, not only Gotham. I suppose there’s no need to remind you of our purpose?”

Clark gritted his teeth, frowning. Diana looked no better, angry and ready to call for other Amazons and Athena’s help. Speedster, the only one they could try to call for help, refused to take part in the battle. He said that someone needed to protect the citizens in case Lanterns go through the barrier.

Obviously, Allen was afraid. He never pretended to be a fighter.

“We do remember our goal, Sionis.” Diana made a step forward with a golden rope pulsing brightly in her hands. “How can we win this fight? You said there’s only one chance.”

Roman tried to catch Jason’s glance, but because of the helmet he wasn’t sure he succeeded. Fears, memories of the dark past caused a slight shiver.

No, no… He would not retreat, he would not fail again.

“You have to kill at least one Lantern. Just one – and the fight will be over, Ms.Prince.”

“What’s gonna happen then?” Floyd, Deadshot, fixed his guns on wrists and checked his drones’ state. He had to put all his flying weaponry in the air. Wilson was pretty convincing when describing the shit they all were about to sink in. “Like, we win, we kill the bastards. What’s next?”

Though Sionis didn’t like the way Floyd Lawton chose to speak, he still came to help and it was a good reason to ignore the familiarity. And now it was an inappropriate time to teach anyone good manners.

“And then everyone can go back to their homes, Mr. Lawton. I have no intention to keep you detained. But, I’m afraid I have to repeat myself, if we all fail now, nobody will go anywhere but to Hell.”

A loud  _ ‘Crack _ !’ exploded; the empty district echoed the noise of the distant hissing. It seemed like the air and the space damaged, and the fissure was letting some outer power in. In their world, in their homeland.

Hearts fastened their beat as the power of fear revived old childish horrors. Images of the monsters under the bed, of the murders and war crimes tried to vanish any good thought.

The Corps of Fear arrived first.

And then sight sank in red, and the power of anger roared causing flashes of the lightnings and terrific thunder growling. The skies cried, the wind raised, cold and scratching uncovered skin.

The Corps of Anger had arrived.

“Good luck.” Roman Sionis threw the very last glance, trying to remember every tiny mark on the red helmet. And then the power of the Ring devoured his soul as it did a few times before.

A huge ghost figure hid Sionis’ body from everyone’s eye. A black tornado surrounded him, strengthening and growing. It was not a mere tornado that usually tore everything in its way apart. But it was a tornado of another nature, it didn’t toss the clothes, didn’t play with Diana's long hair. But it surrounded the whole district Gotham’s heroes succeeded to evacuate. It became cold. As it is when you visit the cemetery.

Power of Necron, the last Black Lantern, protected the city.

***

“Hood and Shot In position. No enemy seen. Over.”

“Roger. Deathstroke in position. Enemy detected. Over.”

“How many?”

“It’s a fucking cat and an ugly–”

Jason and Deadshot shared a look and then sounds of battle reached their ears. Gun shooting, grenades, scraps of curse phrases – all of this and even more was not heard good enough to understand the true power of the enemy. Their position on the rooftop of the ten-floor building looked like a mock, a bad joke with their past. It reminded the mission when both of them were hired by Sionis to make sure the goods were safe.

A whole eternity passed from that day, a life or even two.

From the height of the present time, from the height of the roof, Jason could not recall the exact moment, the point of no return.

How did it all manage to grow into this battle? Into a fight with Lanterns?

Was it the moment when he died first, or it was preordained thousands of years ago, before this era started and far before Jason was going to be born? How could it happen that some other versions, alternative Jasons, were dying and fighting and feeling each other through time and space? How many Romans were there to protect or to fail?

And how many worlds survived or were destroyed…

“Oh, shit… It’s really a fucking cat!”

With no further questions, Jason threw his binoculars up, but he didn’t see anything as the bright red flash blinded both him and Floyed, and in the next moment Jason found himself falling from the roof amongst huge cement pieces.

**JASON! PLEASE, BE CAREFUL! I CAN’T WATCH YOU THIS TIME!**

Roman’s voice interrupted the burst of bloody pain inside his head, but for several seconds, and then it started torturing Jason again. Stinging tears didn’t let him see properly, but some part of his conscious – the one that was trained too good to switch off – detected a source of threat.

It was a cat.

A  _ flying  _ cat.

The animal in a red-and-black suit vomiting some red liquid, strangely reminding him of blood, was covering the distance between them.

The moment the blood spew touched the stones it hissed and melted it, and Jason realized that the big bad luck had finally found him.

“Hey, kitty-cat!” Jason whistled, taking off his belt full of grenades. He still got his grab hook, and he had plenty of escape routes. “Wanna play?”

***

“Ms. Prince, Wonder Woman, it’s an honor for me to meet you on the battlefield. Have you ever imagined you would meet Phobos’ adept?”

With no hesitance, Diana stuck her shield arm out, her legs bent a bit as if she was ready to jump.

Actually, she  _ was  _ ready.

“Athena guides me.” She responded. “And as long my goddess is with me, I shall meet no fear.”

“And what if I will make your goddess turn away from you? What if she’s scared?” Sinestro’s smile was cruel, a smile of a butcher who always enjoyed watching the moment of the cattle’s death.

Diana had met this smile before.

And she was confident in her will to rid the world of the filthy scourge.

***

The south part of the district was full of Amazonian battle cries, and Clark sighed with relief. Just a little concern about Diana, and he could hardly return to the strangest conversation he had ever had.

A strange guy with green skin in a yellow-black suit was trying to convince a flying round piece of flesh, an ugly Lantern in a red-black suit, that Kryptonians were not vulnerable in front of the emotional pressing. Proportions of the flying ball were close to the human but with the mouth occupying almost ⅔ of the whole body. Creature’s arms and legs seemed rarely used. Those short appendages helped the ball in saving the balance while it was levitating. When it spoke, the voice sounded like someone was gulping and choking terribly. So ugly and so sharp.

Unnatural, alien origin of the creature caused nothing but pity and disgust in Clark’s soul.

For a second he felt happy knowing that Dick was in a safe place. They still didn’t know if Bruce was going to come back to his house or visit the Batcave, but they had some time to use all his gadgets and devices to protect Todd and save their reality.

Richard didn’t have the greatest power Diana and Clark had, thus Superman felt the greater responsibility. They all had someone and something to protect.

Soon he became tired of the long lasting dispute.

Intensified by the fear for his beloved and dearest, the blazing beams met the red lantern’s barrier.

***

  
  


“My master..! He will… Revenge!”

This cat definitely came from Hell and it wasn’t going to get back, that’s for sure.

Its claws appeared to be too sharp, those were able to damage his helmet, so Jason had no other option left but to throw it away. Broken cameras and comm sparkled and cracked with static and only brought more problems than really helped him during the fight.

He lost Floyd, but from time to time he heard his loud curses and his drones shooting. A good sign, if Deadshot could survive, then Jason had all chances to do that. Right..?

It’s just the mad flying cat he needed to get rid of, but without ammo that was a pretty hard mission. With the knowledge that Death itself was not able to get him back, it seemed almost impossible.

But all those years Jason lived through – all those years when he didn’t even know about Her watching!

If there existed lessons Jason Todd had learned, then it was that exact moment to use everything he got.

“Filthy mortal! Behold the power of anger-r-r!”

Jason caught his breath, trying to detect the cat's location.

Oh, well, technically, he didn’t need to kill the cat. He just needed to take the fucking Ring from its tail. Though Sionis told them a dead Lantern required to devour their power, something told Jason in his case it would be enough to just make the cat and the source of power apart.

Maybe, the hostless Ring would become weak enough to be devoured by the Necron’s will?

“I can smell you!” Cat’s claws reached his face at the moment when Jason threw his hands with daggers up.

The steel of an unknown metal – the last gift from Roman right before the battle – pierced the cat’s skull with a loud crunch. His trembling hands covered with his own blood felt a strong wave of vibration that shuddered the little body of the animal. Cat’s eyes lost their sparks, and the Ring fell from its tail with the clamor.

“M-mas-ster… I’m s-s-so–”

Daggers stuck in the skull bone like some shitty parody on Excalibur. Never matter how hard he tried, Jason couldn’t get the weapon out. Was it a strange anomaly of an alien dead body? Or some sort of Ring’s magic was working?

“Ah, shit...”

He felt the blood loss some time later when he had already hit a broken wall with his shoulder. The blasted cat wounds on his neck, wounds too deep to ignore now. Probably, some major blood vessel was damaged, and the headache returned again.

Adrenalin waves stepped back taking away the painkilling effect.

His body ached, muscles filled with heavy exhaustion. His lungs and brain demanded more oxygen, and Jason realized with fear he couldn’t breathe in deeply. In some absurd attempt of reflection he tried to find the reasons for the worst injuries he got.

When he was falling from the roof, he crashed into a concrete slab. Broken ribs or even a fracture could cause problems with breathing. Then the grenades exploded too early, he failed to escape on his grab hook on time. The fire touched his back, under the leather coat he felt a spot of heat, probably a huge burn.

Then the cat… Unstoppable piece of fucking shit!

“Rest in peace, motherfucker, and don’t you dare to come back.” Jason spat with blood, and for a second his vision went blurry.

The cat broke his helmet and scratched his face. Miraculously, Jason saved his eyes, but he missed several serious cuts.

“Well-well, the prey goes right into the predator’s claws.”

A heavy step right in front of him; a giant ugly figure of a new alien closed the battle scene. Somewhere in the skies, Clark tried to burn flashes of dark and yellow. Diana and Amazons cried in the distance.

Too far to call for help.

And he was too weak.

“Where’s Dex? I thought he was going to kill you. Haven’t you met yet?”

Looking like he had never had any layer of skin, the alien inspired a paralyzing feeling of horror. His huge fangs were covered with saliva and some blood-like substance, too similar to the one the cat was vomiting.

His – or probably its – muscles played under the thin suit of the Lantern. This alien looked like it was the aspect of strength, like it possessed the true power of the battle, like…

“Hey, kid, sup.”

Rigor left Jason’s body when Wilson touched his shoulder.

Deathstroke's mask was stained with blood and dirt, he had numerous scratches and cracks in his battle armor, but Jason didn’t catch any sign of the real injury. Super-soldiers, huh…

“Get back to Sionis, kid. Now he has some time to help you.”

“S-Slade...”

“I said: go to Sionis. Now!” Wilson took out his sword. “And we didn’t finish yet, ugly face.”

“You’re too hard to die for a mere mortal, one-eyed. But I will fix that. And then I will find you again, little wounded Aspect. I let you breathe a bit longer. Remember that before you die.”

“Kid. Just. Fucking.  _ Run. _ ”

And he ran.

On and on, he didn’t even remember a major part of the way he ran through. Everything Jason managed to notice was the colossus of Necron, a living statue of death. And somewhere, in the center of it was Roman, watching the battle and trying to save the city. To save him.

A sudden shot broke his knee.

With a short, hoarse cry Jason fell and met the darkness right after his head crushed into the cement fragment of the building.

***

  
  


The battle was over.

Red Lanterns’ dead bodies were vaporizing, but the yellow Lanterns were not trying to disappear. They looked almost like humans, like those mortals they liked to humiliate and curse.

Sinestro, looking at the Amazonian warrior, snorted. His peripheral sight caught the unconscious body of the Aspect bringer.

“You will be judged by the Trial of Gods.” Diana didn’t kill him.

And it was her greatest mistake.

“No need, Ms. Diana. You see… We had a certain goal here. And we won.”

A portal, sparkling and smelling like ozone, appeared near the Aspect’s body. Pieces of the soil, ruins of houses, road signs and huge blocks of bricks were drowning in the portal. And the boy disappeared first.

Sinestro smiled in his usual cruel way when Diana, the Princess of Amazons, cried:

“JASON, NO!”

***

Everyone gathered around the Sinestro’s corpse when Roman got down.

“What happened? Where’s Jason?”

Wilson took his helmet off contrary to his usual custom. Clark looked down as if nothing could catch Man of Steel’s interest but the ground fed by blood. Floyd was cursing his drones, his words barely heard.

And Diana was the one to show her emotions openly.

Tears washed her cheeks when she spoke.

“The portal… He… He opened the portal and then… Jason...”

***

A meditating sound of waves woke him. The salty fresh breeze was mild and warm, but the sunbeams failed to blind him.

Instead, he saw a beautiful ginger haired woman kneeled upon him. Her soft features were disturbed by the myriads of questions reflected by her fair blue eyes.

He knew who she was.

To his greatest fear, he knew.

“Mother?”


End file.
